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A plaza in Verona. The heat of the day has intensified and there are ever fewer people out than before. |
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Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants |
| Benvolio |
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: |
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The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, |
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And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; |
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For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. |
| Mercutio |
Thou art like one of those fellows that when he |
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enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword |
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upon the table and says 'God send me no need of |
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thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws |
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it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. |
| Benvolio |
Am I like such a fellow? |
| Mercutio |
Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as |
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any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as |
| Mercutio |
Nay, an there were two such, we should have none |
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shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, |
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thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, |
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or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou |
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wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no |
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other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what |
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eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? |
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Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of |
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meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as |
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an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a |
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man for coughing in the street, because he hath |
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wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: |
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didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing |
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his new doublet before Easter? with another, for |
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tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou |
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wilt tutor me from quarrelling! |
| Benvolio |
An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man |
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should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. |
| Mercutio |
The fee-simple! O simple! |
| Benvolio |
By my head, here come the Capulets. |
| Mercutio |
By my heel, I care not. |
| Tybalt |
Follow me close, for I will speak to them. |
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Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. |
| Mercutio |
And but one word with one of us? couple it with |
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something; make it a word and a blow. |
| Tybalt |
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you |
| 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 |
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thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but |
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discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall |
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make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! |
| Benvolio |
We talk here in the public haunt of men: |
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Either withdraw unto some private place, |
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And reason coldly of your grievances, |
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Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. |
| Mercutio |
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; |
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I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. |
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