"I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire. The day is hot and the Capulets are out. And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl. For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring." Benvolio, Mercutio and other Montagues were walking through Verona's streets. Mercutio's mind was still full of his realisation of love for Benvolio. Every time he looked down at Benvolio's bandaged hand, a small smile escaped his lips. That was the injury that had turned his confused feelings into love.
Mercutio decided to tease Benvolio. "Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword down on the table and claims to have no need of it. Then, with the operation of the second cup, picks up his sword and rams his host right through!". Mercutio pretended to stab Benvolio in the stomach.
"Am I like such a fellow?"
"Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any to be found in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody and as soon moody to be moved."
"And what to?"
"Why, thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. Thou hast quarreled with a man for coughing in the street because he hath wakened your dog. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter. With another for thing his shoes with old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling?"
A loud whistle from behind them stopped the conversation and made them turn around.
"By my head, here come the Capulets."
"By my heel, I care not!" Mercutio crouched down and smirked at the oncoming Capulets who were led by a furious looking Tybalt.
"Gentlemen, a word with one of you."
Mercutio retaliated immediately. "And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something, make it a word and a blow!"
"You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion."
"Could you not take some occasion without giving?"
"Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo?"
"Consort with? What, dost thou imagine us a pair of minstrels? And thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Consort indeed!"
Mercutio and Tybalt glared ferociously at each other. Benvolio stepped between them. "Mercutio, Tybalt, we talk here in the public haunt of men. Either withdraw unto some private place or better yet depart. Here all eyes gaze on us."
"Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I."
A sound of hooves rose up. Romeo was galloping on his horse, as fast as he could. Hastily, he called out to Benvolio. "Benvolio, what fray is this?"
Tybalt focused his cold eyes on Romeo but addressed Mercutio. "Peace be with you, sir, here comes my man."
Mercutio lost control of his anger and lunged forwards, Benvolio caught hold of him just in time. "Your man? How dare you call a Montague your man?"
Tybalt took no notice, he was walking towards Romeo who was approaching from the other direction. "Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this, thou art a villain!"
"Tybalt, the reason I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not." Romeo turned and began to pull Mercutio away too, but Tybalt wouldn't give in.
"Boy, this will not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me. Therefore, turn and draw."
Romeo turned round again. "I do protest I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise. Till thou shalt know the reason of my love; and so, good Capulet, which name I tender as dearly as mine own, be satisfied."
Even though Mercutio knew that Romeo deeply loved Juliet, his blood still boiled to hear Romeo speak so well of the Capulet name. "O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!" Mercutio gave Romeo a little shove before turning to face Tybalt. "Tybalt." Mercutio spat at Tybalt's feet. "You rat-catcher, will you walk this way?"
The shock from Romeo's comment was still etched on Tybalt's face. "What would'st thou have with me?"
"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 but the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out."
"I am for you." Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords in a synchronised swift motion. Romeo rushed forward to stop the impending brawl.
"Gentle Mercutio, put your sword down!"
But the two men took no notice. They raced towards each other and fought. Metal clanged off metal as the other Montagues and Capulets took up their own brawl. Romeo continued to try and stop them. "Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame forbear this outrage. The Prince hath made his wishes clear! An end to fighting in Verona's streets. Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio!" As Mercutio went to strike Tybalt, Romeo rushed between them and held back Mercutio. Tybalt took this advantage and struck Mercutio with his sword. Scarlet blood soaked Mercutio's shirt as he collapsed to the ground, supported by Romeo.
"Let's away!" Tybalt yelled at the Capulets.
Benvolio spun round as the Capulet he had been duelling with ran away. He was shocked. What, Tybalt turn away from a fight? No! Then Benvolio's eyes met the Montagues clustered around two figures. Romeo was kneeling, holding Mercutio whilst Mercutio's blood ran freely, staining the sandy ground. Benvolio's heart broke to see his love and the tears came immediatelyas he rushed to Mercutio's side. He saw his own tears reflected on the faces of both Mercutio and Romeo. Mercutio coughed, struggling, holding on to the last fibres of life.
Romeo turned round to face the retreating Capulets and yelled. "Tybalt!"
"Romeo, villain, dog, if thou art brave, come settle with me boy! " Tybalt took one last glare before turning and continuing his retreat. Romeo turned back to Mercutio.
"Is Tybalt gone with no wound to spare?" The effort to speak was clear.
Romeo addressed a Montague. "You, sir, go to my father's house, fetch a surgeon!" The page hurried away. "Courage, man, the wound cannot be much."
"No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'tis enough. Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man! I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. Why the devil came you between us? He stabbed me under your arm!"
"I thought all for the best."
"The best intentions....mark the way.... to hell. Down with the Montagues.... Capulets. Who's angry war....has stolen.....all my days......a plague on both your houses! Your.....houses!" Mercutio's breathing became harsh and his eyes were nearly closing. The tears were falling fast now.
Romeo stood up. "Stay here Benvolio, be what help you may. I have some business with a new relation." Romeo ran off with a last look at Mercutio.
Benvolio shouted after him. "No, but Romeo stay!" He felt a hand close around his own and squeeze it. He looked down and Mercutio was staring up at him, struggling on. "No!" Cried Benvolio. "No! Hold on! You'll be well! I promise!"
"I....don't know..... Benvolio. The wound.....'tis enough." Mercutio held on to Benvolio's hand as if he would never let go and Benvolio squeezed back, feeling the same. Footsteps behind them told the that the surgeon that the page had been bid to fetch had arrived. "Go to Romeo.... help him.....he'll cause trouble...... he needs you! Go!"
"I won't leave you, I won't!"
"Benvolio.... do as I say.... you said yourself.... I'll be well...... now go!"
Benvolio took a long look at Mercutio, taking in every last detail of his handsome face. Little did he know, Mercutio was doing the same to him. Both men didn't know if this was to be their last look at the one they loved, without even confessing their feelings to each other. Mercutio wanted Benvolio to help Romeo, so he would - for that could be Mercutio's last wish and Benvolio would honour it. Squeezing Mercutio's hand once more and gazing into his teary eyes, Benvolio ran quickly away forcing himself not to go back to his love. He granted himself one last glance back over his shoulder and saw the surgeon bending over Mercutio before ordering two men to carry him away. Benvolio wiped his hazel eyes.
Mercutio watched the man he truly loved disappear from sight as he was carried away. He felt sick to his stomach and not because of his injuries. Mercutio knew the wound was severe. There wasn't much chance. Was he to die, when he had only just discovered his true feelings? Before he had even confessed them? Mercutio didn't know if he would ever see his hazel eyed love again.
Benvolio didn't know how long he ran for before he sought out the continued fight in a ruin of a church. Romeo and Tybalt were duelling fiercely. "Cousin." Benvolio called and Romeo nodded at him. On the other side of the ruin stood Capulets. They had clearly been ordered by Tybalt to leave the fight to him. The clangs of the swords echoed off the walls. Tybalt lunged, but Romeo blocked him. Then Romeo tried to strike Tybalt and succeeded. Blood ran from his side as he fell to the floor. He lay there groaning, then his eyes glazed over. Cries of "Tybalt is slain!" rang out.
Benvolio rushed to Romeo, who looked as if he were in a trance "Romeo, away, be gone! The gods themselves are angry. Tybalt is slain! Stand not amazed! The Prince will doom thee death, if thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!"
Romeo seemed to come to his senses. "Oh I am fortune's fool!" Shakily, he ran away. Hopefully, Benvolio thought, to safety.
As the Capulets carried away Tybalt's corpse, Benvolio turned and ran. The only thought on his mind was of Mercutio and the blood that had stained the ground when it had ran from Mercutio's body. What if he was dead?
Benvolio reached the Montague house and was about to rush inside up to Mercutio's chamber, when Lord Montague, Lady Montague and Benvolio's father walked out of the door, all wearing matching solemn expressions. Benvolio's heart sunk, he felt as if he was the one that was cold and dead.
As they neared him, Benvolio could only utter one word. "M-Mercutio?"
His father answered. "He lives."
Benvolio was raised from the grave and he breathed deeply in utter relief. "Then why do you all wear such looks of sadness?"
Lord Montague's voice was stern. "Benvolio, we have been summoned to the Prince."