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 livery.
Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower;
Your worship in that sense 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 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 knowest me not.

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

ROM.
I do protest I never injuried 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 mine own—be satisfied.

MER.
O calm, dishonorable, vile submission!
Alia stoccato carries it away.
Draws.
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 sword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest 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 passado.
They fight.
ROM.
Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath
Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
Romeo steps between them.
Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!
Tybalt under Romeo’s arm thrusts Mercutio in. Away Tybalt with his followers.

MER.
I am hurt.
A plague a’ both 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 surgeon.

Exit Page.

ROM.
Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much.

MER.
No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door, but ’tis enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am pepper’d, I warrant, for this world. A plague a’ 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 dev’l 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 a’ both your houses!
They have made worms’ meat of me. I have it,
And soundly too. Your houses!
Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.

ROM.
This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally,
My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain’d
With Tybalt’s slander—Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my cousin! O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper soft’ned valor’s steel!
Enter Benvolio.

BEN.
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is 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 doth depend,
This but begins the woe others must end.
Enter Tybalt.

BEN.
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

ROM.
He gone in triumph, and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-ey’d fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the “villain” back again
That late thou gavest me, for Mercutio’s soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.

TYB.
Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

ROM.
This shall determine that.

Tybalt falls