TYBALT

     Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
     Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

MERCUTIO

     And but one word with one of us? couple it with
     something; make it a word and a blow.

TYBALT

     You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
     will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO

     Could you not take some occasion without giving?

TYBALT

     Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--

MERCUTIO

     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!

BENVOLIO

     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.

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 hanged, 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
     No better term than this,--thou art a villain.

ROMEO

     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 know'st me not.

TYBALT

     Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
     That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

ROMEO

     I do protest, I never injured 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 my own,--be satisfied.

MERCUTIO

     O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
     Alla stoccata carries it away.

     Draws

     Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

TYBALT

     What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO

     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, drybeat 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.

TYBALT

     I am for you.

     Drawing

ROMEO

     Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO

     Come, sir, your passado.

     They fight

ROMEO

     Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
     Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
     Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
     Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
     Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

     TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers

MERCUTIO

     I am hurt.
     A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
     Is he gone, and hath nothing?

BENVOLIO

     What, art thou hurt?

MERCUTIO

     Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
     Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

     Exit Page

ROMEO

     Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO

     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.

ROMEO

     I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO

     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!

     Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO