On this same morning of the marriage it happened that Romeo’s friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, were walking through Verona. It was a very hot day, and Benvolio presently suggested they should go home, saying that the Capulets were abroad, and that if they met, they would certainly not escape a brawl, for these hot days fevered the blood, and made men quarrelsome.
Mercutio laughed at Benvolio’s caution, and accused him of being as hot-tempered a man as any in Italy.
“Nay, if there were two such we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other,” he said jeeringly. “Thou! Why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast; thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, and with another for tying his new shoes with old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!”
“If I were as ready to quarrel as thou art,” retorted Benvolio, “any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.”
It will easily be seen that these gentlemen were not in the most amiable frame of mind, and it was unfortunate that at that moment a party of the Capulets should come up, among them being the fiery-tempered nephew of Lady Capulet. The incident of the night before still rankled in Tybalt’s mind, and any friend of Romeo’s was fit subject on which to wreak his spite. But Mercutio was not a man to brook insult, and he returned Tybalt’s insolence with interest.
“Gentlemen, good-day; a word with one of you,” said Tybalt, advancing.
“Only one word with one of us?” said Mercutio in a mocking voice. “Couple it with something: make it a word and a blow.”
“You shall find me apt enough at that, sir, if you give me occasion,” said Tybalt, glaring at him.
“Could you not take some occasion without giving?” sneered Mercutio.
“Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo——”