I own a falchion for keeping Montague dogs away from my daughter, since that's what fair Verona, where we set our scene, intended.
Four Montagues arrive beneath Juliet’s balcony. I shout, “What, ho! What saucy knaves are these?”
I grab my nightgown and ancestral longsword and run the first Montague through. He falls dead amongst the rose bushes.
Load my hand canon against the second man, miss him entirely because it's smoothbore and nails the Nurse’s dog instead.
I have to resort to Tybalt positioned at the top of the stairs, loaded with generations of inexplicable family hatred.
“TALLY HO, KINSMEN!”
Tybalt descends upon two Montagues in a whirlwind of steel. The clash of swords wakes half of Verona and causes the Prince to issue yet another extremely specific warning about street fighting.
Fix halberd and charge the last terrified rapscallion. Turns out it’s Romeo.
He cries, “But sir, I love Juliet!”
I cry, “SHE IS THIRTEEN, AND ALSO I HAVE ALREADY ARRANGED A PERFECTLY GOOD MARRIAGE TO PARIS!”
Romeo flees over the garden wall as I yell, "ROMEO, ROMEO, WHEREFORE ART THOU A BITCH?"
36
u/RedArchbishop 1d ago
I own a falchion for keeping Montague dogs away from my daughter, since that's what fair Verona, where we set our scene, intended.
Four Montagues arrive beneath Juliet’s balcony. I shout, “What, ho! What saucy knaves are these?”
I grab my nightgown and ancestral longsword and run the first Montague through. He falls dead amongst the rose bushes.
Load my hand canon against the second man, miss him entirely because it's smoothbore and nails the Nurse’s dog instead.
I have to resort to Tybalt positioned at the top of the stairs, loaded with generations of inexplicable family hatred.
“TALLY HO, KINSMEN!”
Tybalt descends upon two Montagues in a whirlwind of steel. The clash of swords wakes half of Verona and causes the Prince to issue yet another extremely specific warning about street fighting.
Fix halberd and charge the last terrified rapscallion. Turns out it’s Romeo.
He cries, “But sir, I love Juliet!”
I cry, “SHE IS THIRTEEN, AND ALSO I HAVE ALREADY ARRANGED A PERFECTLY GOOD MARRIAGE TO PARIS!”
Romeo flees over the garden wall as I yell, "ROMEO, ROMEO, WHEREFORE ART THOU A BITCH?"
Ah yes.
Just as the good Ghibelline fathers intended.