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.


 Enter Romeo.
TYBALT.

Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man.


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.


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!

[Draws.] Alla stoccata carries it away.

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 pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine

be about your ears ere it be out.


TYBALT.

[Drawing.] I am for you.


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.