Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio in and flies.
Mer. I am hurt.
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. 96
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Ben. What art thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. 100
Mer. 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. 109
Rom. I thought all for the best.
Mer. 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, 113
And soundly too:—your houses!
Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt 116
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, 120
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
96 sped: done for
115 ally: kinsman
116 very: true
