Sword Crossed Lovers

A Suitor For Juliet

Waiting for her worded reply, Tybalt grips her hand slightly tighter, his eyes searching hers for even a thought going through her head.  "M'lady?" he prods.
"Tybalt, I... I am flattered but..."
"What, bright angel?"
"Thou art my cousin," she blurts, turning away from him and rising from the stone seat.  She drops his hand and moves to his right around the bench.  Tybalt pursues with eager attention.  "Indeed but am I not thy protector?"
"That is my father's duty."
"Am I not thy guardian angel, then?" he preys, places his hands on her shoulders with a tender touch.  She shudders slightly and Tybalt believes it to be of the winds moving through the garden.  "I care for you, Juliet.  Let me show you a good time tonight," he coos, kissing her cheek.

Juliet lets a brief moment pass and she finally turns to face her cousin.  Her hand quivers and she pricks her finger with her nail to steady her mind.  She takes a deep breath in and looks up at him, the happy spark in her eyes hinting at her reply.

As foreseen by the look in her eye, Tybalt feels his heart leap.  "Is that a y-" he begins before her lips stop his own.  Juliet pulls him close and her chaste affection softens his brow.  Sensing something within him beginning to rise, he pulls away first and meets her soft eyes with a hopeful question, "So I take thy kiss as an answer?"
"Peace among the Gods, ye lips speak the truth!  Aye, I shalt go with thee tonight, fair cousin," she grins, kissing him once more before taking his hand and twirling into his strong arms.

Tybalt smiles a true and hopeful smile.  With his cousin in his arms, swaying to the momentum of the day and the beauty of the garden, he lets himself laugh with pure joy.  He lets his soul fly with happiness and gleefully kisses her hand once more.  "Then tonight, my fair princess, I shalt make thee my queen."
"A queen to thy prince?  I think not, fair gentleman," she playfully replies, dancing with him in the garden, feeling the grass under her bare feet.  "Perhaps a princess would fit thy title better."

Tybalt laughs and in a graceful swoop, he picks her up and holds her bridal style.  Juliet laughs as he continues to sway and dance with her in his arms, humming a tune they both remember from their peaceful childhood.

As evening dawns on the Capulet Estate, the servants had masterfully decorated the landmarks with flames, lights, color, and perfumes.  The colorful and luxurious decorations promote the Ancient Egypt and Roman theme for the masked ball, matching the Italian Renaissance style of the original structure of the Estate.  Peter conducts his workers around, making sure all is to his master and Lord Capulet's pleasure.  As one of his employees rushes by, he catches them quick and pulls them in close, hissing. "Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He should be moving and scraping plates!"
"When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing," the other servant replies, shrugging.
"Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate.  Good friend, save me a piece of marchpane, and, as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell," orders Peter, bidding the servant away.

He is about to turn and leave but a strong voice catches his ear.  "Ay, boy, ready," the youth calls.  Peter turns to another fellow servant and barks, "You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the great chamber."
"We cannot be here and there too. Cheers, boys. Be brisk awhile, and let the one who lives the longest take everything," growls the other servant, marching off to the Great Hall at the master's summons.

Lady Capulet catches Peter at work and pulls him aide before he finishes lighting the stairwell above the Ball Room where the dancing is to commence.  "Peter, watch out for my nephew tonight.  Something seems amiss with his as of late.  I bid you protect him from harm, even restrain him if nessicary.  I give you permission.  Do you understand?"
"Aye Madam.  I shalt do thy bidding!" he replies with a low and gracious bow.  Lady Capulet smiles and nods her head in response.  "Good.  You are my favorite manservant, gracious Peter.  You have done so much for my husband's House and his name.  Keeping the young Tybalt in check has allowed for us to accomplish so much more.  I bid thee a peaceful night," she hisses, dismissing herself with a wave of her lace fan as she jitters away on her petite heels graced with red embroidery.

Meanwhile, in Lord Capulet's office, he slams his fist down hard on his oak desk, his voice rising.  "But Montague is bound as well as I, in penalty alike. And 'tis not hard, I think, for men so old as we to keep the peace."  The young suitor, Paris Escalus, looks back at the older man with a sense of respect but also pity.  The Escalus is younger by far than the man before him and honored with a closer relation to the Prince, but still the Capulet is more powerful than he.  His dark brown eyes yearn for the Capulet's power and receiving his royal cousin's blessings a few moons ago, approached the Capulet Lord with a proposition to wed his only child, his daughter, his Juliet.

With a stern voice, the Capulet replies, "Of honorable reckoning are you both and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long."  Seeing the old Capulet's eyes turn fiery, he changes the subject a favorable subject with a more forgiving tone, "But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?"
"I can only repeat what I've said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world.  She hath not seen the change of fourteen years.  Let two more summers wither in their pride ere we may think her ripe to be a bride."
"Younger than she are happy mothers made," points out the young suitor, impatient longing burning at his heart and body.
"And too soon marred are those so early made," retorts the older man sharply, his eyes cutting Paris down like a tree-cutter.  "Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she.  She's the hopeful lady of my earth.  But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart.  My will to her consent is but a part.  An she agreed within her scope of choice, lies my consent and fair according voice.  This night I hold an old accustomed feast, whereto I have invited many a guest such as I love and you among the store, one more, most welcome, makes my number more," he offers, handing him a ticket into the ball.  "At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light.  Such comfort as do lusty young men feel when well-appareled April on the heel of limping winter treads," he chuckles with Paris.  "Even such delight  among fresh fennel buds shall you this night inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, and like her most whose merit most shall be- which on more view of many, mine, being one, may stand in number, though in reckoning none, come, go with me."

The two pause as Peter enters the chambers tentatively.  "You summoned me, my Lord?"
"Go, sirrah, trudge about through fair Verona," booms Lord Capulet, handing the servant a slip of paper with beautifully engraved names on it in dark ink.  "Find those persons out whose names are written there, and to them say my house and welcome on their pleasure stay."

With that, the servant parts from the two men making deals on a girl like she were an animal.  He departs from the Capulet Estate swiftly to carry out his Lordship's duty but realizes something.  Laughing to himself, he gushes, "Find them out whose names are written here? It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned in good time!"