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Romeo:
Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage,
Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath
Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!
(Exeunt Tybalt with his Partizans.)
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 tomorrow, 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.)
Romeo:
This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally,
My very friend, hath got his 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 soften’d valour’s steel.
Re-enter Benvolio.
Benvolio:
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead,
That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Romeo:
This day’s black fate on mo days doth depend;
This but begins the woe others must end.
Re-enter Tybalt.
Benvolio:
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Romeo:
Again 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 gav’st 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.
Tybalt:
Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.
Romeo:
This shall determine that.
(They fight; Tybalt falls.)