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 his partisans._  
_Mercutio._ I am hurt.  
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.  
Is he gone, and hath nothing?  
_Benvolio._ What, art thou hurt?  
Mercutio. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.--  
Where is my page?--Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.  
[_Exit Page._  
_Romeo._ Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.  
_Mercutio._ No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so  
wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve;  
ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave  
man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world.--A  
plague o' both your houses!--Zounds, a dog, a rat,  
a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart,  
a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of  
arithmetic!--Why the devil came you between us?  
I was hurt under your arm.  
_Romeo._ I thought all for the best.  
_Mercutio._ Help me into some house, Benvolio,  
Or I shall faint.--A plague o' both your houses!  
They have made worms' meat of me. I have it,  
And soundly too;--your houses!  
[_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio_  
_Romeo._ This gentleman, the prince's near ally,  
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt  
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd  
With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour  
Hath been my cousin!--O sweet Juliet,  
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,  
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!  
_Re-enter_ BENVOLIO  
_Benvolio._ O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!  
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,  
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.  
_Romeo._ This day's black fate on more days doth depend;  

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