the unruly spleen Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he helps not to me with so strong a fine That you shall not excuse the appertaining rage To such a fellow? MERCUTIO. Come, sir, your passado. [_They fight._] PAGE. O lord, they fight! I will follow you. MERCUTIO. And so did I. Well, we were interchanging thrusts and blows Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince expressly hath Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt!