The excellent Tragedie
15091152Mer: Nothing King of Cates, but borrow one of your
15101153nine liues, therefore come drawe your rapier out of your
15121154scabard, lea
st mine be about your eares ere you be aware.
15151155Rom: Stay
Tibalt, hould
Mercutio:
Benuolio beate
15241159Mer: Is he gone, hath hee nothing? A poxe on your
15261161Rom: What art thou hurt man, the wound is not deepe.
15301162Mer: Noe not
so deepe as a Well, nor
so wide as a
15311163barne doore, but it will
serue I warrant. What meant you to
15371164come betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.
15401166Mer: A poxe of your hou
ses, I am fairely dre
st. Sirra
15321169Mer: I am pepperd for this world, I am
sped yfaith, he
15411170hath made wormes meate of me, & ye aske for me to mor
- 1171row you
shall
finde me a graue-man. A poxe of your hou
ses,
1542.11172I
shall be fairely mounted vpon foure mens
shoulders: For
1542.21173your hou
se of the
Mountegues and the
Capolets: and then
1542.31174some pea
santly rogue,
some Sexton,
some ba
se
slave
shall
1542.41175write my Epitapth, that
Tybalt came and broke the Princes
1542.51176Lawes,and
Mercutio was
slaine for the
fir
st and
second
1542.81179Mer: Now heele keepe a mumbling in my guts on the
1542.91180other
side, come
Benuolio, lend me thy hand: a poxe of your
15431182Rom: This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie.
15441183My very frend hath tane this mortall wound
15451184In my behalfe, my reputation
staind
15461185With
Tibalts slaunder,
Tybalt that an houre
15471186Hath beene my kin
sman. Ah
Iuliet Thy