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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 fo, good Capulet, whose name I tender
As dearly as my own, be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
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 shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. • Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you.

[Drawing:

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer, Come, Sir, your passado.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio, -beat down their weaponsGentlemen-for shame, forbear this outrage Tybalt-Mercutio-the Prince expresly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt,good Mercutio.

Mer. I am hurt

[Exit Tybalt.

A plague on both the 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 furgeon. Rom. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Afk for

9 Will you pluck your fword out of bis PILCHER by the ears?) We should read PILCHE, which

fignifies a cloke or coat of skins, meaning the scabbard.

WARBURTON.

me

me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. 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 some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall 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.

SCENE II.

!

Rom. This Gentleman, the Prince's near allie,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's fslander; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my cousin. O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper softned 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 more days does

depend;

This but begins the woe, others must end.

This day's black fate on more days does depend;] This day's unhappy destiny bangs over the

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

Enter

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive? in Triumph ? and Mercutio lain?

Away to heav'n, respective lenity,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's foul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company;
Or thou or I, or both, must go with him.

Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst confort him

here,

Shalt with him hence.

Rom. This shall determine that.

[They fight, Tybalt falls.

Ben. Romeo, away. Begone:

The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain

Stand not amaz'd. The Prince will doom thee death,

If thou art taken. Hence. Begone.

Rom. Oh! I am fortune's fool.

Ben. Why dost thou stay ?

SCENE III.

Enter Citizens.

Away.

[Exit Romeo.

Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio ?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

* Oh! I am fortune's fool.] I am always running in the way of evil fortune, like the fool in a VOL. VIII.

play. Thou art death's fool: in Measure for Measure. See Dr. Warburton's Note.

F

Cit.

Cit. Up, Sir. Go with me.
I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey.

Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, their Wives, &c.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?
Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all
Th' unlucky manage of this fatal brawl.
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That flew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's

Prince,

child!

O-coufin-husband-O-the blood is spill'd

Of my dear kinsman. Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
O! coufin, coufin.

Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray?

Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did

flay;

Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink
4 How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure; all this uttered

With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt, deaf to peace; but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death afide, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud,

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Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his

tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to't they go like lightning; for ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;
And as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly.
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montagues,
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give;
Romeo New Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
La. Mont. Not Romeo, Prince, he was Mercutio's

friend;

His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And for that offence,

Immediately we do exile him hence : *I have an interest in your hearts' proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;

$ Affection makes him false.] The charge of falshood on Bentivolis, though produced at hazard, is very just. The authour, who seems to intend the character of Bentivolio as good, meant perhaps to shew, how the best minds, in a state of faction and difcord, are detorted to criminal partiality.

But

6 I have an interest in your

hearts' proceeding,] Sir Th. Hanmer faw that this line gave no sense, and therefore put, by a very easy change,

I have an interest in your beat's proceeding. Which is undoubtedly better than the old reading which Dr. Warburton has followed; but the fenfe

F2

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