Alas poor Romeo! He is already dead. Why? Who and what is Tybalt that he should be so sure...

Mercutio: Alas poor Romeo! He is already dead. Benvolio: Why? Who and what is Tybalt that he should be so sure of it? Mercutio: More than prince of cats, I can tell you now. He fights like a music-player, all precision and keeps his time and distance, perfectly played, with one and two and three and in your chest. He's a gentleman and a duelists and none can fight him and live to tell the tale.

A challenge on my life. Which Romeo will meet. Alas, poor Romeo, he's already dead. Why? Who and what is Tybalt, that he should be so sure of victory? More than a prince of cats, I tell you now. He fights like a music player, all precision, and keeps his time and distance perfect play. With one and two and three, and in your chest. He's a gentleman and duelist, and none who fight him live to tell the tale. Ah, gentlemen. I hope you've helped to cover my tracks. Where did you vanish to last night? You gave us both the slip most prettily. Pardon, Mercutio, I was much taken up. At such a time a man may lose his grace. And more besides. Nay, we forgive you, for you are Romeo again. Is this not better now than groaning still for love? Now you are sociable. Great love will make us only into fools. Stop there. Romeo, there's a letter come for you. I fear it is a challenge from Count Tybalt, which will not brook delay in your reply. - You could soothe his rage... - Excuse me, both, I prithee. Cousin? Where are you going? Romeo! This heavy matter cannot be ignored! Good sir, I desire some talk with you. What tired old bawd is this?