I like it not.
Some actors' stumbling lines
Or patient yawns
Leave Shakespeare's thoughts delivered
Barely breathing or still-born
While others' jousting runs the play
Unchecked, unfettered, and yet un-free.

Mercutio's fitful rantings smoulder some,
Then, tired, lose their place,
Extinguished fire that nearly casts
A plague on any houses
Before a lingering death brings
Sweet relief to all the house.

Old Capulet, more bored than angry,
Tirades only tiredly at his daughter,
The last in a line of several disappointments.
We wait his piece to end,
Endure the hanging and begging and starving
In the streets, while Juliet entreats...
Gosh, I could use a bit to eat.....

O God in Heaven!
Give us up a little leaven
From this acting now so leaden.

Sadly, young Mercutio's dead,
And soon, Paris, and young Romeo,
Followed by young Juliet, and then Old Capulet....
The priest's alive, so we can fret
What further mischief he may still beget.