"Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air we wawl and cry."
Sitting in the Governors' Chamber for the first time gave Mercutio all the feelings he had expected: anticipation, satisfaction, nausea. Of course, his nausea was nothing to the gut-emptying plague his uncle was currently enjoying. Mercutio felt no remorse. If Antonio didn't drink to the point of hallucinating most nights, slipping in a soured batch wouldn't have been so easy. If he had spent less time reveling in his newly found majesty, Antonio would have had the time to decide on a loyal proxy rather than be forced by sheer necessity to send Mercutio in his place to today's session.