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BENVOLIO 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.
BENVOLIO Am I like such a fellow?
MERCUTIO Thou art like one of those fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says “God send me no need of thee!” and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer when indeed there is no need.
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