Mercutio Monologue / Romeo & Juliet

Analysis

Script Title: Love and Hate Character: Mercutio Setting: A street Scene: Before the entrance of Benvolio in scene 4, Act 1.

Description of actions

Realisation Mercutio feels frustrated and depleted. He believes that Romeo has spent the night with Rosaline despite the warnings that he has given him. He realises that love is the reason for Romeo’s ignorance and wonders whether he could face Tybalt in a fight.	Where the devil is Romeo? Has he been with Rosaline? I have warned him, I told him. He will not listen! Love doesn’t make you blind. Romeo still sees Rosaline’s bright eyes. [Indirect, 2, 1, 19] Her splendour, her beauty. Love has not blinded Romeo; it has made him deaf.  I fear for him, he does not know the true love. He knows only love’s disguise. She hides behind an elegant mask and won’t reveal herself until her grasp on him is eternal. Until there is nothing he can do but fall apart. Collapse completely and know who she is. The enemy. He dreams of love and his dreams deceive him. Master of deception, love has whispered lies into his soul. And still, he treats love as a close friend, unable to separate his life from love’s misguiding direction. Fall in love, that is fine, but just make sure you fall deep enough to stay there forever. [Ram Mohan Roy, 2004] Alas, poor Romeo, you are already dead. Being shot by an arrow would be less painful. He has chosen this torture. Is he a man to encounter Tybalt?	Angry, storm in to room. (Pace quickly, panicked) Stop face audience on ‘He will not listen!’ Bitter. Laugh, a little crazily, after ‘true love’. Drop head on ‘elegant mask’. Look up on ‘fall apart’. Emphasise ‘know’. Sound angry. Breathe heavily. Laugh, defeated. Unsure of what to do.
Self-Division Mercutio begins by comparing Tybalt to Romeo, convincing himself that love is behind Romeo’s incompetence. Mercutio then begins to compare himself to Tybalt and explores the idea of hate in relation to Tybalt. Mercutio questions why he admires Tybalt and his ability to hate. He also starts to question what he knows as love.	No, he is not. Romeo cannot face Tybalt’s challenge. Tybalt. O, he’s the courageous captain of compliments. He fights like you sing at a recital, keeps time, distance and proportion. He is quick where Romeo is idle, alert where Romeo is asleep. Tybalt was never fooled by love.  Once I was as Romeo is now. Desperate for it, for love. So trusting of the monster. I have love, so much, in fact, that it has become not unlike getting changed in the morning. A daily routine that you do not question. A frequent occurrence with numerous women. This is the love I know. And I hate love. I hate love like Tybalt hates. Tybalt knows only hate. He knows hate as it truly is, a fire in the soul. A desire to inflict pain, cruel, merciless torture. This is what I feel for love. Tybalt has never felt love’s burden. That which makes the soul heavy and drowns you. That stakes you to the ground so you cannot move. An unfair game, love. Why is it that I admire Tybalt? So heartless, so cold. Tybalt, who cannot love. How is it that I am jealous of him? I can see that Tybalt is not unlike love herself. It is obvious to me, the likeness in them. Tybalt who is quick-tempered, proud and arrogant. The personification of hate. Reminds me of love.	Firm, directed. Pull out sword, mimic Tybalt fighting. Throw sword away. Sit down on chair. Roll eyes on ‘monster’. Laugh at the fact that love is so simple. Smile and enjoy talking about hate. Confused, disgusted. Thoughtful, convinced that he is right. Laugh at the irony.
Transcendence Mercutio tries to convince himself that love and hate are similar to explain his admiration of Tybalt. As the cracks in his argument start to reveal themselves, Mercutio begins to realise that his idea of love has stemmed from lust. He starts to understand that his idea of love is the outcome of the hate he has for himself.	Isn’t that strange. Oh, how love and hate can be so similar. If only Romeo could know how closely related they truly are. There is a thin line between them. Surely, this is true. Love and hate are both strong passions and rather than being opposites, they can merge together with little warning. Love and hate are not like light and dark, loud and silent or god and satin; they are not opposites. Yet, how is that? Tybalt cannot be the epitome of hate if hate and love are similar. Tybalt will have nothing to do with love. Like Romeo and Tybalt himself, love and hate cannot be the same. It doesn’t make any sense. Unless what I know of love or hate is mistaken. If in fact, the love that I know has stemmed from hate. Then they might be similar in the way that they destroy you. But if this is true, love that has stemmed from hate is not love.	Stand up and pace. Use hand gestures. Emphasise ‘surely.’ Loudly, convinced. Pause. Overwhelmed and confused. Frown, bewildered. Unable to make sense of love. Still confused.
Self-Realisation Mercutio realises that his idea of love is warped and has been influenced by self-loathing. He has realised that the way he has been feeling is the result of this hate. He then goes on to relate this realisation back to Romeo and is convinced that Romeo will find love.	This means that I do not know love; I must know hate.  Hate for myself. That is the only logical vindication, justification of my actions. The answer to why I put myself through the pain. I believed the agony was caused by love. The result of loving. This cannot be. My pride, my ego assured me that love was the source behind my resentment, my anger. How conceited, how imprudent I am. I know hate like the palm of my hand, like a brother or a sister. Exactly as Tybalt has for Romeo and all Montagues. The outcome of the stock and honour of his kin. I have this hate for myself. Hate is not my friend and yet he is where I seek comfort. The emptiness, the cruelty, jealousy and selfishness that I have known; that is hate. Oh dear Romeo you will know love. What you feel for Rosaline is too like what I have known before. Rather a lust, than a love. But you will know what love is. What true, good love is. The honest type, the type so unlike Tybalt and hate.	Dark, heavy tone. Apprehensive and uneasy. Loud, raise voice. Play with fingers, hands. Run hand through hair, stressed. Sit down again. Emphasise ‘feel’.
Self-Projection After realising that no good can come from his current state he decides that he wants to find love again.	I cannot continue, pretending that I am shrewd or intelligent, that I am wise or that I know anything of love. I want the love that I have heard Romeo speak of. The love that brings joy. To speak of this love only reminds me of the men I saw as fools not long ago. Oh love, I realise now that these men know the true you. I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear. [Martin Luther King, Jr.]	Shake head, steady voice. Laugh at ‘fools’. Conclusive, decisive.