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TYBALT:
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What wouldst thou have with me?
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MERCUTIO:
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Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
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lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
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shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
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eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
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by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
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ears ere it be out.
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TYBALT:
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I am for you.
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ROMEO:
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Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
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MERCUTIO:
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Come, sir, your passado.
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ROMEO:
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Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
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Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
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Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
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Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
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Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
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MERCUTIO:
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I am hurt.
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A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
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Is he gone, and hath nothing?
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BENVOLIO:
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What, art thou hurt?
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MERCUTIO:
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Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
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Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
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ROMEO:
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Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
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MERCUTIO:
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No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
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church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for
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me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I
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am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'
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both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
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cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
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rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
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arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
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was hurt under your arm.
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ROMEO:
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I thought all for the best.
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MERCUTIO:
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Help me into some house, Benvolio,
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Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
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They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,
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And soundly too: your houses!
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ROMEO:
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This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
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My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
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In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
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With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
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Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
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Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
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And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
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BENVOLIO:
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O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
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That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
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Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
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ROMEO:
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This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
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This but begins the woe, others must end.
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BENVOLIO:
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Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
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ROMEO:
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Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
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Away to heaven, respective lenity,
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And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
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Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
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That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
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Is but a little way above our heads,
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Staying for thine to keep him company:
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Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
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TYBALT:
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Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
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Shalt with him hence.
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ROMEO:
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This shall determine that.
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