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ROMEO AND JULIET. 69 

Till thou shalt know the reason of my love ; 
And so, good Capulet, — which name I tender 
As dearly as my own, — be satisfied. 

Mercutio. 0, calm, dishonorable, vile submission ! 
A la stoccata carries it away. [Draws. 

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. I am for you. [Drawin;/^ 

■ Romeo. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. 
Mercutio. Come, sir, your passado. \_Theyfght. 

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 and Ms ^artiso/as. 
Mercutio. I am hurt. 

A plague o' both your houses I I am sped. 
Is he gone, and hath nothing ? 
Benvolio. What, art thou hurt ? 

Mercutio. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; ' marry, 'tis 
enough. — 

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