Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady:-O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint :
A lover may bestride the goffomers
That idle in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall; fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich musick's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubstance, not of ornament:

They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such extess,

I cannot fum up half my fum of wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,

Till holy church incorporate two in one.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

A publick Place.

Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants.

Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,

And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of thofe fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword upon the table, and fays, God fend me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like fuch a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as foon moved to be moody, and as foon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an there were two fuch, we fhould have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou haft. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou haft hazel eyes; What eye, but fuch an eye, would spy out fuch a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou haft quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath waken'd thy dog that hath lain asleep in the fun. Didit thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his

new

new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

Ben. An I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-fimple? O fimple!

Enter TYBALT, and Others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.-
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, fir, if you will give me occafion.

Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving? Tyb, Mercutio, thou confort'st with Romeo,

Mer. Confort! what, doft thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but dif cords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that fhall make you dance. 'Zounds, confort!

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw into fome private place,

Or reafon coldly of your grievances,

Or elfe depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, fir! here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hang'd, fir, if he wear your livery:

Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
Your worship, in that sense, may call him-man.
Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To fuch a greeting:-Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I fee, thou know'ft me not.
Tyb. Boy, this fhall not excuse the injuries
That thou haft done me; therefore turn, and draw.
Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee;

But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reafon of my love:
And fo, good Capulet,—which name I tender
As dearly as mine own,-be fatisfied.

Mer. O calin, difhonourable, vile fubmiffion!
A la ftoccata carries it away.-

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

Tyb. What would'st thou have with me?

[Draws.

Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall ufe me hereafter, dry-beat the reft of the eight. Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, left mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Mer. Come, fir, your paffado.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio;

[drawing.

[They fight.

Beat down their weapons :-Gentlemen, for fhame
Forbear this outrage ;-Tybalt-Mercutio-

The prince exprefsly hath forbid this bandying

In Verona ftreets :-hold, Tybalt;-good Mercutio. [Exeunt TYBALT and his Partizans.

Mer. I am hurt ;

A plague

A plague o' both the houses!-I am sped :-
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben.

What, art thou hurt?

Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.Where is my page?—go, villain, fetch a furgeon.

[Exit Page. Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve: ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am pep

per'd, 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 arithmetick!-Why, the devil, came you
between us? I was hurt under your arm.
Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into fome house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint.-A plague o' both your houses!
They have made worm's meat of me :

I have it, and soundly too :-Your houses!

[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.

Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation ftain'd
With Tybalt's flander, Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman :-O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foften'd valour's steel.

Re-enter BENVOLIO.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth.