ACT III.
1. Scene I. A public Place.
(continued)
Romeo.
I do protest I never injur'd 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.
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,
dry-beat 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
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 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.
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