The unkindest cut

"What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word
as I hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee: "

                                                             Romeo and Juliet, I, i

Tybalt, that Hotspur of the Capulets, quick to anger and quick to settle arguments with a sword, sneers those lines at the benign Benvolio, of all people. Reaching for his sword, he might have grabbed a late 16th-century Italian rapier (this is Verona, after all). 

Agecroft Hall's collection includes just such a rapier (shown here), with the kind of gracefully curved guard that one might expect from the decoratively-inclined Renaissance Italians. A compelling argument might be made that if you're going to be run through with a sharp blade, why not insist on one that looks classy?

The rapier, a two-edged, pointed sword (hence ideal for thrusting, as opposed to simply hacking away like an uncivilized drudge), was finding its way into England by the mid-16th century. It caught on quickly, at least in part because it could be effectively used not only in a duel of honor, but in a graceful demonstration of swordfighting skill in an age that was not quite ready to give itself over to the gun. Who could deny that an extended thrust with a rapier not only kept an opponent further at bay but, more importantly, looked positively heroic? And with the Italians, wasn't style everything?

The art of fencing looms large at the end of Hamlet, with Shakespeare portraying the resourceful Dane as quite handy with a sword and not to be trifled with. Typically, swords were "bated," that is, blunted, during a fencing duel meant as sport. But Laertes' sword, "unbated and envenom'd," carved out treachery at its worst.

Shakespeare includes a bit of fencing jargon in The Merry Wives of Windsor:

"To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse; to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant."     (II, iii)

Shakespeare felt confident that the fencing terms would be familiar, at least to those who handled a rapier with one eye on the demands of style.