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Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can,
It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy,
That one fhort minute gives me in her fight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die like fire and powder,
Which as they meet confume. The sweetest honey...
Is loathfome in its own deliciousness,

And in the taste confounds the appetite:

Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo:

Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot..
Will ne'er wear out the everlafting flint;
A lover may bestride the goffamour
That idles 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, elfe are his thanks too much., ¡
Rom. Ah! Juliet, if the meafure of thy joy

Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it; then fweeten with thy breathe
This neighbour air, and let rich mufick's tongue
Unfold th' imagin'd happinefs, that both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter."

Jul. Conceit more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth,
But my true love is grown to fuch excess,

[work,

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

I cannot fum up one half of my wealth.

For, by your leaves, you fhall not ftay alone,

'Till holy church incorp'rate two in one.

Exeunt.

ACT

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I Pray thee, good. Mercutio, let's retire.

The day is hor, the Capulets abroad,

And if we meet, we fhall not 'fcape a brawl; For now thele 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 a fecond 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 mov'd to be moody, and as foon moody to be mov'd.

Ben. And what to ?..

Mer. Nay, an there were two fuch, we fhould have none fhortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair lefs in his beard than thou hast thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reafon, but because thou haft hafel eyes; what eye, but fuch an eye, would fpy 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 ftreet, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain afleep in the fun.

Didft thou not fall out with a taylor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new fhoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!

Ben. If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man Thould 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 clofe, 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 fomething, make it a word and a blow.

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

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

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

[Laying his hand on his fword. Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men: Either withdraw unto fome private place,

Or reafon coldly of your grievances,

Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Mens 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, Sir, here comes my man. Mer. But, I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wear your livery: Marry go first to field, he'll be your follower,

Your Worship in that fenfe may call him man.

Tyb.

Tyb. Romeo, the love I bare thee can afford
No better term than this; thou art a villain.

Rom. Tybalt, the reafon that I have to love thee
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage
To fuch a greeting: villain I am none,
Therefore farewel, I fee thou know'ft me not.
Tyb. Boy, this fhall not excufe the injuries
That thou haft done me, therefore turn and draw.
Rom. I do proteft I never injur'd thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devife,
'Till thou fhalt know the reafon of my love.
And fo, good Capulet, (which name I tender
As dearly as my own,) be fatisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile fubmiffion! "'Ha! la fioccata` carries it away.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, a come, will you walk?
Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me?

Mer. Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal; and as you fhall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be

out.

Tyb. I am for you.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio

pons

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[Mercutio and Tybalt fight. beat down their wea

Gentlemen for fhame forbear this outrage

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Tybalt Mercutio the Prince exprefly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona ftreets.

Hold, Tybalt

good Mercutio.

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A plague of both the houses! I am sped:

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

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[Exit Tybalt.

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Ben. What, art thou hurt?

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

Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve: ask for me tomorrow, and you fhall find me a grave man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: a plague of both your houfes! What? a dog, a rat, a moufe, 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 fhall faint; a plague o'both your houses!
They have made worms-meat of me,

your houfes.

I have it, and foundly too

[Exe. Mer. Ben.

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Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near allie, 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 coufin: O fweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foftened valour's fteel.

Enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;

That gallant fpirit hath aspir'd the clouds,

Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth.

Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend;

This but begins the woe, others must end.

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive? in triumph? and Mercutio slain?

Away

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