[Or reason coldly] of your grievances,
Or else [depart]; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mercutio. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure,[ I].
Enter Romeo
Tybalt. Well, peace be with you, sir; here comes my man.
Mercutio. 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.
Tybalt. Romeo, [the hate I bear thee] can afford