Character Description
"You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings
And soar with them above a common bound."
These words are quite intense, but quite fitting for the first's words spoken from the "fiery- eyed" Mercutio.
Mecrutio's view on love, life, and fighting are very different from those of the gentle hearted Romeo.
Mercutio is one of those guys that when you see walking down the street you think that he is as harmless as
a mouse, but you know that deep down inside he is a time-bomb waiting to explode! His idea of love is that
"If love be rough with you, be rough with love"
I picture him his flying hair wild with adventure in his eyes sparkling with excitement, as he picks up the
smell of a hunt. His attire would be nice, considering that he is related to the prince. His actions speak for
themselves (those action include, telling exciting tales, fighting in the streets of Verona, and giving love
advice). Most of all when you see him walking down the street you know, "Hey that's Mercutio!"









Answering Machine
Message/Greeting
Thou art havest be in that no wit,
For if thou art a man that knowest me
Thou would have know that thyself isn't
Never to be discovered at home.
Therefore- leavest thou message at the
Sound of a sword - and pray tell I will
Return it- au beintot!

Message One
Cousin- thou haft heard that thou havest been
Corrupting the streets of Verona.
Thy know that thist be not to be and shall
Be -in that thou must stop at once or thy
Family shall fight once more!
Message 2
Gentle Mercutio- why art thou tonight?
Thy stars are flickering and thy moon
Is calling- but where are thou friend-
Mercutio? Art thou sleeping? Art thou dancing? Art thou laughing at thy right now?
Oh- gentle Mercutio- call thy Romeo- for thou
Art bored!

Message 3
Mercutio? Mercutio? Mercutio! Thou art there? Pick up thy phone! Mercutio! Well
My son where art thou been- thy father and thy mother havest not know where thou art resides, and thy
mother- worried is she.
Some news there was of thou being lost to the lord. Please call. Thy mother loves thee- call her, please.
"Quotes"
Act I, scene 4 line 27-33
Mercutio
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
Give me a case to put my visage in.
A visor for a visor! What care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Act I, scene 4, lines 97-103
True, I talk of dreams;
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos
Even now the frozen bosom of the North
And, being angered, puffs away from thence,
Turning his side to the dewdropping South.

Act II, scene 1, lines 33-40

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.
O. Romeo, that she were, O that she were
An open et cetera, thou a pop'rin pear!
Romeo, good night. I'll to my truckle bed;
This field bed is too cold for me to sleep.
Come, shall we go?


Act III, scene I, lines 89-91
Mercutio
A plague a' both houses! I am sped.
I she gone and hath nothing.

Act III, scene 1, lines 121-128
Romeo
Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain?
Away to heaven respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the "villain" back again
That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads
Staying for thine to keep him company.
Either thou or I, or both must go with him.







Long Speech/Soliloquy
O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In no shape no bigger that an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Over men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon spokes made of long spinners legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces, of the smallest spider web;
Her collar, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash of film;
Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat,
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid,
Her chariot is an empty hazelnut,
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through