Romeo and Juliet

by William Shakespeare

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Men.

Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad.
And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl,
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Mer. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters
the
confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and
says
'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the
second
cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
Ben. Am I like such a fellow?
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in
Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be
moved.
Ben. And what to?
Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly,
for
one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a
man
that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou
hast.
Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no
other
reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an
eye
would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels
as
an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as
addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrell'd with a
man
for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog
that
hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a
tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with
another
for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt
tutor me from quarrelling!
Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should
buy
the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
Mer. The fee simple? O simple!

Enter Tybalt and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den. A word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us?
Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.
Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will
give me
occasion.
Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?
Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.
Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make
minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my
fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds,
consort!
Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men.
Either withdraw unto some private place
And reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.
I will not budge for no man's pleasure,

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.
Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery.
Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower!
Your worship in that sense may call him man.
Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
No better term than this: thou art a villain.
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting. Villain am I none.
Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devise
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love;
And so good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearly as mine own, be satisfied.
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws.]
Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?
Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me?
Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives.
That I
mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter,

dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out
of
his pitcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your
ears
ere it be out.
Tyb. I am for you. [Draws.]
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado!
[They fight.]
Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame! forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath
Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!
Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio in, and flies
[with his Followers].
Mer. I am hurt.
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
Is he gone and hath nothing?
Ben. What, art thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, 'tis enough.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page.]
Rom. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church
door;
but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me to-morrow, and you
shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this
world. A plague o' both your houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a
mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue,
a
villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil
came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
Rom. I thought all for the best.
Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me. I have it,
And soundly too. Your houses!
[Exit. [supported by Benvolio].
Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt
In my behalf- my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's slander- Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman. O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper soft'ned valour's steel.

Enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Rom. This day's black fate on moe days doth depend;
This but begins the woe others must end.

Enter Tybalt.