Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene i. 

Hot to practice his fight scene,
he holds the one good broom
and offers you the broken mop.
“Pa,” he says, “how ’bout  now ?”

You’re the  furious Tybalt, he explains,
and have already killed.
When he’ll say,  Now, Tybalt,
take the ‘villain’ back , he’ll flip the mop

to you, you catch it, and,
 Thou, wretched boy , you get to say.
When, brandishing the broom,
he says,  THIS shall determine that, 

you’ll make a thrust or two,
but mostly you’re to block,
and parry his; take the blade, be slain,
lie there on the linoleum.

Ready? You may groan going down,
but only a bit. You’re only Tybalt,
no hamming it up. You may clutch
your wound, okay, as you fall,

just don’t forget,  THIS
shall determine THAT. 
Got it? Let’s go. Again, And again.
A Tybalt for a night, the colander

will slide off your head, clunk across
the kitchen floor; the mop will slip
from your moist grip,
and as the mother-prompter shouts

 Romeo, away, be gone! 
lucky you, you get, though dead,
to hear him cry,  O, I am fortune’s fool!