Luckily, Mercutio had not seen enough Abbott and Costello to turn this whole “Yu” business into a confusingly hilarious comedy routine, nor did he have the patience. So he just smiled and bowed. It was not a gesture of subservience. It was too ostentatious, too showy; it was rather the gesture of someone rich but polite.
“Well met, good Yu.” He placed a hang on his own chest, mimicking the gesture. “I am Mercutio, lately of Verona.” He didn’t find Yu’s speech all that difficult to understand, but the difference rang in his ears. “Forgive me, but thou hast an accent strange to me. From whence came you?”