Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page and Servants.
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire:
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl,
For now these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the