Mercutio has never been one to resist a joke for too long -- and he knows this is serious, but he cannot help himself. "Mayhap the Capulets have some enchantment or another," he says, extremely drily, and stretches before hopping up from the bed.

"I know not," he says, soft and oddly fond for him. "He was wounded, when he was here -- like me. Mayhap it gentled him some. Thy feud was foolish, anyhow."