Act II, Scene 4

(I am not Shakespeare, you see.

He died in the 17th Century.

If you think that I am.

You ought be in Bedlam,

For Shakespeare hath quite ceased to be.)

Only moments after Juliet stormed away, the servant Sampson came out and approached me.

"My master seeks you within," he said, rubbing his eyes. He must have stayed up particularly late.

I sighed and went inside. Sure enough, my uncle was waiting for me. I regarded him coldly. What more did he want from me?

He was calm, with bags under his eyes and a very sober expression. He, too, was recovering from the late night revelry. I was probably the only one in the house with the proper health- though the reason was not good.

"I hath reason to talk to thee about thy behavior last night," he said, rubbing his forehead but keeping his eyes sternly on me. "Thou thought my care of thee was harsh."

My mouth came open a little and I felt the familiar flush. He wanted to scold me again, after that scene last night? I clenched my fists, but Lord Capulet placed his hand heavily on my shoulders.

He looked hard into my eyes. "That was for thy protection, Tybalt," he said firmly. "I didst say I believed thee too choleric, and didst not trust thee with thy tool. 'Twas a good thing indeed I did. The days are hot, the revelries full of ale and passion. 'Twould be uneasy to 'scape a brawl, especially with thy spleen."

I kept my lips tight together, stemming more rising color.

"Thou knowest thou wilt be put to death for fighting," he continued. "Thou seemest to need check from another, for thou is unable to check thyself. Doth not the Prince's law have any weight on thee?" He shook my shoulders very slightly- not intending to, but succeeding in, reminding me of last night.

He sighed and let me go. "Thou art many years an orphan- thy good mother, bless her, died with thee in childbirth, six years later followed by thy father, God hath his soul. I hath taken thee in to my house, for my wife hath some fondness for thee. I believe thou remindst her of her elder brother, thy father, for thou art her favorite."

He went on to make me feel guilty and pitied. "I hath provided thee with house and daily meal, and childhood playmate through my daughter." I pursed my lips at that; every Capulet dined at his table. "Thy education came through thy father's will, but little else. I wonder if 'twould been best to kept you from learning the sword, for though thou hath learned the art of violence, thou hast not learned the honor of peace."

"Thou art as choleric as I," I blurted out. "Of the Prince's law alone are thou feared!"

His eyes widened and his expression stiffened at this, but he kept his head this time. "I hath treated thee as my own child. My own child I wouldst not have flouting the laws of this town, nor contradict me," he hissed. I stared at him; I couldn't see him scolding his sweet Juliet for anything. Then again, Juliet lacked the will to do anything against her father's wishes. Even now she had made the transition to anti-feud in the light of his recent demand for peace. I used to be jealous of her ability to obey and remain in better favor, but now I saw her only as a weak-willed, dull-witted creature with no proper thought of her own. If that was what was respected in women, I hated them even more.

"If thou findst my care of thee too overbearing," Capulet continued, eyebrows high, "thou knows the option. Tybalt, thou art of an age. Perhaps thou are ready to cease thy days as Capulet ward and begin thy own family? Thou hath a name and enough estate to go by."

I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. He was suggesting I leave! I had long known he planned to oust me at some point, as I couldn't very well stay under his care forever, but this came out as if he wanted to kick me out. We were sick of each other, I was too old, and if I wanted to be treated as an adult I would have to go out and make my own fortunes- outside the Capulet household.

I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to stop being a Capulet- and the only connection I had was the household in which I lived.

Lord Capulet sighed. "Think on't, Tybalt. Thou canst not stay as a child forever. Even Juliet, several years thy younger, is preparing for her duty in the adult world."

My uncle reached over and pulled out something from behind a crevasse in the wall. It was my sword. I felt myself suck in a long breath, but tried not to look too desperate to get it back.

"Thou desire back this?" he asked, presenting it with both hands.

I looked hesitantly at him. His voice suggested a catch. "Aye, sir," I said slowly.

"Art thou prepared to wield it properly? I shall no further intervene on thy behalf. Thou must as a man stay thy own consequences."

Could he not have taken that stance last night? I could have handled anything Romeo would have thrown at me.

"Aye, sir," was again all I answered.

He placed it in my hands. "Operate it nicely. The feud is done. Thou realize today might have been thy doomsday if thou hadst gone after the Montague boy?"

"I realize," I answered bitterly. I sighed one last time, "The feud be truly over?"

"Aye," he nodded solemnly.

"Art thou Montague's friend?"

He blinked, a bit taken aback. "I tolerate the man for sake of peace."

To avoid death, he meant. "Yet thou still hath reserve. Thou wouldst not, of course, allow thy daughter to marry a Montague?"

Lord Capulet's face twisted into utter amusement, as if the idea were preposterous. "My daughter's suitors are chosen by myself, and at present the County Paris is her most likely man."

"Aye, but ladies oft hath loved outside their father's wishes," I pointed out.

He laughed, with surprisingly good nature. "Thou insult Juliet with the idea!" he laughed. "She knowest her scope of suitors, and she stays. She is an obedient daughter."

Perhaps he was right; perhaps Juliet's letter was only to Paris, and feminine perverseness and desire for secrets kept her defensive of them around me. Perhaps she knew I'd tease.

Of course, once I killed Romeo, it wouldn't matter anyway.