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Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too


Rom. Ah! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then fweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air; and let rich mufick's tongue
Unfold th' imagin'd happiness, that both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars, that can count their w orth
But my true love is grown to fuch Excess,

I cannot fum up fums of half my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short

work ;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
'Till Holy Church incorp'rate two in one.


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Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.


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.

The day is hot,] It is observed
than in Italy almost all affaffina-

tions are committed during the heat of summer.


Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword upon the table, and fays, God send me no need of thee ! and, by the operation of the fecond cup, draws it on the Drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like fuch a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as foon mov'd to be moody, and as foon moody to be mov'd.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an' there were two fuch, 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 lefs, in his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou haft hafel eyes; what eye, but fuch an eye, would spy out fuch 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 haft quarrelled with a man for coughing in the ftreet, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain afleep in the Sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling;

Ben. If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-fimple ? O fimple!

Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, 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.

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Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You fhall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occafion.

Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo

Mer. Confort! what doft thou make us minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that, fhall make you dance. Come! confort!

[Laying his hand on his fword. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men; Either withdraw into fome private place,

Or reafon coldly of your grievances,

Or elfe 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. I

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 li


Marry, go first to field, he'll be your follower:
Your Worship in that fense 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 reafon that I have to love thee
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage
To fuch a Greeting. Villain I am none,
Therefore, farewel. I fee, thou know'ft me not.

Tyb. Boy, this fhall not excufe the Injuries That thou haft done me, therefore turn and draw.


Rom. I do proteft, I never injur'd thee, But love thee better than thou canft devife; 'Till thou shalt know the reason of my love. And fo, good Capulet, whofe name I tender As dearly as my own, be fatisfied.

Mer. O calm, difhonourable, vile fubmiffion! Ah! la Stoccata carries it away.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, 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 fhall-ufe me hereafter, dry-beat the reft of the eight..? Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you.
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weapons. Gentlemen-for fhame, forbear this outrage

Tybalt-Mercutio-the Prince exprefly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tybalt,- -good Mercutio.

Mer. I am hurt

[Exit Tybalt.

A plague on both the houses! I am fped.

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben. What, art thou hurt?

Mer. Ay, ay, a fcratch, a fcratch; marry, 'tis


Where is my page ? go, villain, fetch a furgeon.
Rom. Courage, man.

The hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve. Afk for

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me to-morrow, and you fhall find me a grave máñ. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world. A plague on both your houses! What? 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 arithmetick? Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into fome house, Benvolio,

Or I fhall faint. A plague on both your houses!
They have made worm's meat of me.

I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houses!

[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.


Rom. This Gentleman, the Prince's near allie,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation ftain'd
With Tybalt's flander; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my coufin. O fweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foftned 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 fcorn the earth.

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Rom. This day's black fate on more days does


This but begins the woe, others must end.

› This da's black fute on more days does aepend;] This day's unhappy deliny hangs over the

days yet to come. There will yet be more mischief.


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