Chapter 13

MERCUTIO. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. TYBALT. [_Drawing._] I am for you. ROMEO. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. MERCUTIO. Come, sir, your passado. [_They fight._] ROMEO. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage, Tybalt, Mercutio, t…