ACT III.
1. Scene I. A public Place.
(continued)
Mercutio.
By my heel, I care not.
[Enter Tybalt and others.]
Tybalt.
Follow me close, for I will speak to them.--Gentlemen, good-den:
a word with one of you.
Mercutio.
And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make
it a word and a blow.
Tybalt.
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give
me occasion.
Mercutio.
Could you not take some occasion without giving?
Tybalt.
Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,--
Mercutio.
Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make
minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my
fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!
Benvolio.
We talk here in the public haunt of men:
Either withdraw unto some private place,
And reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mercutio.
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Tybalt.
Well, peace be with you, sir.--Here comes my man.
[Enter Romeo.]
Mercutio.
But I'll be hanged, 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.
Tybalt.
Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
No better term than this,--Thou art a villain.
Romeo.
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 know'st me not.
Tybalt.
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
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