Rom. Are you Mercutio’s kinsman, Plaster Paris?
Or are you Villikins?
Mer. Thank you, I am nary;
But I am Mercutio, who, upon my life,
Had nearly made that maid there be my wife
But for your coming. Now that you have come,
And I’m not wanted, I think I’ll go home.
Rom. Stay, vile Mercutio, I see what you’re about:
With this ’ere maid you tried to cut me out;
But you shall find that I can cut as well.