To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, I cannot fum up one half of my wealth. [work; Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short For, by your leaves, you fhall not stay alone, Till holy church incorp'rate two in one. [Exeunt. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXXXX I ACT III. SCENE, The STREET. Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants. BENVOLIO. Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; The day is hot, the Capulets abroad; Mer. Thou art like one of those 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 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 thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair lefs, in his beard, than thou haft: 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 spy out fuch a quarrel? thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head has been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled 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 tailor 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 fhould buy the fee-fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-fimple ? O fimple! Enter Tybalt, Petrucio, and others. Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Tyb. Follow me clofe, for I will speak to them. Tyb. You fhall find me apt enough to tha, 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, Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. C 2 Enter 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. Romo, the love, I bear thee, can afford (19) No better term than this, thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reafon that I have to love thee But love thee better than thou canst devife; Mer. O calm, difhonourable, vile fubmiffion! (19) Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this,] This is only Mr. Pope's fophiftication of the text. All the copies in general, that I have seen, read, Romeo, the love I bear thee, &c. Why then this change? Is Mr. Pope really fo great a poet, and does not know, that the love here ftands for the little or no love, the bate in effect? Is it not frequent in poetry to exprefs things by their contraries; to ufe promife instead of threaten, and threaten instead of promife? I'll quote an inftance from Virgil, becaufe Servius's commeat on it explains the practice of this figure. me, fors fi qua tulisset, Si patrios unquàm remeaffim victor ad Argos, Promifi.] Pro minatus fum, per contrarium dixit: quià minamur mala, promittimus bona. Sic autem Horatius contrà; Atqui vultus crat multa & præclara m nantis, i. e. promittentis. (20) Alla Stucatbo. This fmells a little too rank of barbarifm for Mercutio, who is no ignorant fellow, but understood at least his own country language, Staccata is the Italian word for a certain pafs in fencing. Mer. Mer, Good King of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal; and as you fhall ufe 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. [Drawing. [Mercutio and Tybalt fight. Rom, Draw, Benvolio,-beat down their weapons Gentlemen-for fhame, forbear this outrage- Mer. I am hurt A plague of both the houfes! I am sped : Ben. What, art thou hurt? [Exit Tybalt. Aer. Ay, ay, a fcratch, a fcratch; 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: afk for me to morrow, and you fhall find me a grave man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: a plague of both your houses! What? a dog, a rat, a moule, a cat, to fcratch 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 houfe, Benvolio. Or I fhall faint; a plague o both your houfes ! They have made worms-meat of me, 1 have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houses! [Exeunt Mer and Ben. Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation flain'd With Tybalt's flander; Tybalt, that an hour Hath Hath been my coufin: O fweet Juliet, Enter Benvolio. Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead. That gallant fpirit hath afpir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend; This bat begins the woe, others must end. Enter Tybalt. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that did ft confort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This fhall determine that. [They fight, Tybalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away, be gone: The citizens are up, and Tybalt flain Stand not amaz d; the Prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away. Rom. O! I am fortune's fool. Ben. Why doft thou stay ? Enter Citizens. [Exit Romeo. Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? Cit. Up, Sir, go with me: I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey. Enter |