give leave awhile, We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back to challenge you. Or if not so, for she divideth us. Some say the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so fine That you shall not house with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons whose names are written there, [_gives a paper_]