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| Tybalt |
Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. |
| Mercutio |
But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: |
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Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; |
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Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.' |
| Tybalt |
Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford |
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No better term than this,--thou art a villain. |
| Romeo |
Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee |
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Doth much excuse the appertaining rage |
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To such a greeting: villain am I none; |
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Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. |
| Tybalt |
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries |
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That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. |
| Romeo |
I do protest, I never injured thee, |
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But love thee better than thou canst devise, |
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Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: |
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And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender |
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As dearly as my own,--be satisfied. |
| Mercutio |
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! |
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Alla stoccata carries it away. |
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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 |
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lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you |
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shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the |
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eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher |
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by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your |
| Romeo |
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. |
| Mercutio |
Come, sir, your passado. |
| Romeo |
Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. |
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Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! |
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Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath |
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Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: |
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Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! |
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TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers |
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