Act II, Scene 3

(Hi, I'm Shakespeare. Pleased to meet you. Or how about no?)

I scarcely slept that night. The noises from downstairs could be heard in my tiny chamber of a room, and my bed felt hot and uncomfortable. Every ring of laughter from the revelers brought a fresh flush of fury and embarrassment to my hot face as I thought of how they had laughed as I was upbraided. My uncle's laugh carried most, and it made me squirm. Worse than the indignity of punishment was the fact that the simple recollection of these things made me uncomfortable with shame. I was meant to have no shame; I had no fault. I was defending the Capulet family honor.

I stayed awake until the party was over, hot with temper. I wrote out my challenge to Romeo in candlelight, taking care not to smear the words in my haste. My language was as I had been taught; Romeo Montague would see that Tybalt was a master of his art, in all realms.

He would really see it when I ran him through.

It made me laugh, cold and mirthlessly, overtaking the gay laughter of the party, when I envisioned his face as he realized his doom. Romeo seemed not to have noticed me; it would come as such a shock. Perhaps, as Romeo would be apt to sleep late after the party, his father would get the message first, and scold him for consorting with the Capulets. Romeo, bewildered, would come looking for me, and I would give him short answers, and be done with him.

Lord Capulet would be pleased that I had avenged my honor.

The next morning, I crept out early to the garden, where I bid my page take the letter.

"To the Montagues, sirrah," I commanded. "The name be on the letter; they shall know within."

I watched him, satisfied, as he went through the garden gate. I backed up- right into Juliet.

She reacted much worse than usual; she gave a shriek and her eyes grew wide at the sight of me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "How now?"

She pursed her lips and clenched her fists. I saw her nurse, who had been standing with her, look from her to me with a frightened countenance, and leave after my page.

Juliet brightened for a moment and called after her. "Hence! Away, nurse! Hasten back!"

I raised my eyebrows at her. She blinked calmly back at me. "I hath sent her with a message."

"What message?"

Her face grew stormy. She was so much colder to me than usual. I wondered if perhaps the party had gone too late for her liking. "That be none of thy interest."

I could feel my lips curling into a knowing smile. "'Twas a man, was it not? Thou needst not be so secret."

She blinked back, her mouth coming open. "'Tis mine own interest and mine alone, Tybalt!"

"And thy father's," I teased- though the words felt bitter in my mouth. I resented Lord Capulet's authority at this moment, and almost wished it were not so. "Hath he spoke with the man?" I leered, "'Tis the County Paris, true?"

She turned her head away, playing perversely. It irritated me; I had always loved Juliet for her frank and open manner. This new coldness did not suit her. "I spoke with many men."

"Didst thou speak with a Montague?" I asked sharply, feeling the color rise in my face.

It rose in hers to match. She did not say anything, but watched my eyes, her pupils darting back and forth, searching to see what I knew.

"Thou didst, of course, realize there was a Montague in our house, didst thou not?" I pressed. Then I relaxed, trying to win back her warmth. "Perhaps thou didst not recognize him. I did."

She kept her face cold and expressionless for a few long moments, then turned away. "Perchance I did speak to one. Thou wouldst know. Thou was watching for me, was thou not? Watching for Montagues, itching to brawl. So choleric thou was sent out by my father."

I took in a sharp breath. She stung hard. "I wouldst not have a Montague come in thy house and adulter thee!" I cried.

She narrowed her eyes, the pinkness in her cheeks in two dark dots. "I have wit enough to tell for my own, Tybalt. I am nearly of age to be a bride. I wouldst thou wilt not watch me more."

"Thou wilt consort with Montagues! Thou needs protection," I glared at her.

She took a deep breath. "There was not reason to harm the Montague to which I spoke," she said slowly. "Such a man was well behaved and suited."

I gasped. She was defending Romeo, too! I could not take it. It was too bad my temper snapped on the frailer Juliet.

"It seems I am the only real Capulet in this house!" I shouted at her, watching her face tremble with my words. "I am the only one who holds the family honor and respects the ancient rivalry!"

Her eyes bored into mine, glowing. "The feud is old. 'Tis over." She was trembling slightly. "Also . . . " she stuck out her lower lip, "thou art not a Capulet. The real Capulets hath forgot the feud."

With that, she turned and walked stiffly back into the house.

My jaw dropped and I could barely move for astonishment. Juliet had offended me worse than any Montague had, ever, and even more than Lord Capulet.

"Thou art a traitor to thy family!" I shouted to her back.

I was seized with a furious thought:

The letter might have been to Romeo.

She was with him the most out of the previous night, and she defended him. She could not have a Montague as a suitor! Peaceful as Lord Capulet was to avoid the Prince's wrath, he would never allow such a marriage. The County was his top choice, of higher nobility than either the Capulets or the Montages, and an old man's pride could not bend a rivalry so far.

Romeo Montague had corrupted the House of Capulet. First, he had broken the ancient family honor. Worst, he had stolen the heiress from her rightful mind.