MERCUTIO: This is my fiddlestick. I'll use it to make you dance.
"Consort," is it?
BENVOLIO: We speak here in the public square. Either go somewhere private to discuss your grievances rationally, or else leave. All eyes gaze on us here.
MERCUTIO: Men's eyes were meant to look, so let them watch. I will budge for no man.
TYBALT: Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man now.
MERCUTIO: He's no man* of yours. If you were to walk onto the battlefield, he'd follow you—in that sense you might call him your "man."
TYBALT: Romeo, I can only say one thing to you: You are a villain.
ROMEO: Tybalt, I have reason to love you, which allows me to put aside my rage and excuse that insult. I am no villain.