MERCUTIO: He's more than the Prince of Cats*—he's the captain of by-the-book fencing. He fights like you sing at a recital, minding time, distance, proportion...
He takes the proper breaks: one two, and the third in your heart. He's a butcher who can hit any silk button, a master of duels.
A gentleman of the first school of fencing and of turning any argument into a sword fight.
He knows the passado...
The punto reverso...
BENVOLIO: He knows what?
MERCUTIO: I hate these frantic, affected fellows with their foreign phrases and their newfangled expressions!
"By Jesus, this is a very good blade," they say, "A very brave man, a very good whore!"
Isn't this sad, old boy? Why put up with these fashionmongers, these flies who say "Pardon me..."
...Who are so taken with the new styles that they can't sit on an old, hard bench without whining, "Oh, my bones! My bones!"
*Prince of Cats = a medieval character whose name was also Tybalt