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That fool Mercutio has named me Prince of Cats, an insult I will embrace gladly, for my claws are deadly sharp and my appetite for the hunt ever sharp. Were he not a relative of the ruler of Verona, Prince Escalus, I would have bloodied my blade on him long ago.

His friendship with the Montagues, and in most particular with the loathed Romeo, heir of his house, and his half-Veronese cousin Benvolio, only fans the flames of my hatred.

I am but recently come to Verona, though my family's roots go as deep here as any; my aunt and uncle lost their heir to a Montague brawler's sword in the market, and I am come with my sister Rosaline to ease their grief. My uncle has settled upon me as his favorite, and I will do whatever I must to earn his favor and receive the bounty of the Capulet fortune on his death.

As for my sister Rosaline, I care not; she was too much indulged by our father when he lived, and permitted too many liberties. My aunt wishes to send her to a convent, to advance of Capulet's fortunes in the church; sooner than later, I say.

No good can come of a woman who reads.
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, as I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Tybalt, to Benvolio