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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Now, Tybalt, take the 'villain' back again That late thou gay'st 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." The first three lines are spoken by Romeo to himself.
Some tender phrases passed between them, perhaps; but the lady was flurried, taken unawares, and afterwards, it seemed, altered her mind, and would have no further commerce with the Montague. This business furnished Mercutio's quiver with innumerable sly shafts, which Romeo received for the most part in good humor.
In the same palace where he sojourned lived a very valiant soldier and wit, a kinsman to Prince Escalus, one Mercutio by name, with whom Hamlet exchanged civilities on the staircase at first, and then fell into companionship. A number of Verona's noble youths, poets and light-hearted men-about-town, frequented Mercutio's chambers, and with these Hamlet soon became on terms.
I shouted; and Mr Brooke gave me back poor Mercutio's answer to his friend, in Romeo and Juliet "'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door: but 'tis enough; 'twill serve." "Here, my lads, one of you; I must have a frock." "Right, sir, mine'll do," said the coxswain, unfastening and dragging his white duck garment over his head.
But we must doubt whether this, the musical gem of the symphony, has a plan that is purely graphic, rather does it seem to soar beyond those concrete limits to an utterance of the sense of dreams themselves in the spirit of Mercutio's conclusion: "... 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;"
I'm so strong it don't seem possible for such a little wound to kill me." Merry Mercutio's dying words glanced through my memory as he spoke: "'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'tis enough."
It is a foreign fashion, and we are Englishmen; therefore I protest against it. I will take my leave of you by parodying Mercutio's words: Ladies and gentlemen, bon soir; there's a French salutation for you." So saying he walked off the stage, leaving the audience rather surprised; and so was I. I think he is laboring under an incipient bilious attack.
Some lucky day, perhaps, we may stumble on the animal or bird which will take measles, scarlet fever, or whooping-cough, and then we will soon find out all about them. But, fortunately, our knowledge of these little diseases, like Mercutio's wound, is "not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 't is enough" for all practical purposes.
Mercutio's wit, gaiety and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakespeare to have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime.
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