Tib. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man

Mer. But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery.
Marry go before to field, heele be your follower,
Your worship in that sense, may call him man

Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord
No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine

Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: Villaine am I none;
Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not

Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries
That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw

Rom. I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee,
But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise:
Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue,
And so good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearely as my owne, be satisfied

Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission:
Alla stucatho carries it away.
Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke?
Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me?
Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine
liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall
vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you