Romeo and Juliet

He knows what?

I hate these crazy, affected guys who use foreign phrases and newfangled expressions. I hate their strange manners and their weird accents! I hate it when they say, “By Jesus, this is a very good blade, a very brave man, a very good whore.” Isn’t this a sad thing, my good man? Why should we put up with these foreign buzzards, these fashionmongers, these guys who say “pardon me,” these guys who care so much about manners that they can’t kick back on a bench without whining? “Oh, my aching bones!”

Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!

He looks skinny, like a dried herring without its eggs, and he hasn’t got his girl. O flesh, flesh, you’ve turned pale and weak like a fish. Now he’s ready for

Petrarch’s

Mercutio teases Romeo by alluding to the poet Petrarch and six mythical and historical women who inspired love poetry.

Petrarch’s poetry. Compared to Romeo’s girl, Laura was a kitchen slave. Surely she has a better love to make rhymes for her. Dido was shabbily dressed. Cleopatra was a gypsy girl. Helen and Hero were sluts and harlots. Thisbe might have had a blue eye or two, but that doesn’t matter. Signor Romeo, bonjour. There’s a French greeting that matches your drooping French-style pants. You faked us out pretty good last night.