Mer: Apoxe of your houses, I am fairely drest. Sirra
goe fetch me a Surgeon.
Boy: I goe my Lord.
Mer: I am pepperd for this world, I am sped yfaith, he 65
hath made wormes meate of me, & ye aske for me to morrow
you shall finde me a graue-man. A poxe of your houses,
I shall be fairely mounted vpon foure mens shoulders: For
your house of the Mountegues and the Capolets: and then
some peasantly rogue, some Sexton, some base slaue shall 70
write my Epitapth, that Tybalt came and broke the Princes
Lawes, and Mercutio was slaine for the first and second
cause. Wher's the Surgeon?
Boy: Hee's come sir.
Mer: Now heele keepe a mumbling in my guts on the 75
other side, come Benuolio, lend me thy hand: a poxe of
your houses. Exeunt.
Rom: This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie.
My very frend hath tane this mortall wound
In my behalfe, my reputation staind 80
With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath beene my kinsman. Ah Iuliet
Thy beautie makes me thus effeminate,
And in my temper softens valors steele.
Enter Benuolio.
Ben: Ah Romeo Romeo braue Mercutio is dead, 85
That gallant spirit hath a spir'd the cloudes,
Which too vntimely scornd the lowly earth.
Rom: This daies black fate, on more daies doth depend
This but begins what other dayes must end.
Enter Tibalt.