LORD CAPULET: Tybalt lay down your, er, spoon. (Tybalt grabs the spoon from Servant 1 and brandishes it like a knife. SERVANT 1: Not if you don't say 'please', sir.
TYBALT: Give me your biggest, meanest, sharpest spoon for I mean kill a sworn enemy. TYBALT: A plague in your pants! What do you have?
Romeo is now gazing lovingly a metre away from Julie, who does not notice him.) (Tybalt rushes over to the serving tables. Aghh, alas I carry no sword and have no dagger. TYBALT: I recognise that face! A cursed Montague in our house. She's just faking it: it's probably wedding day nerves. I nurtured her like one of my own and now death lies on her like an untimely frost.
