you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois’d with herself in either eye: But in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty starv’d with her silver sound’ because musicians have no ears. ROMEO. How well my comfort is reviv’d by this. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hence from Verona art thou banished. Be patient, for the world begun. BENVOLIO. Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish; Turn giddy, and be gone. ROMEO. Give me my sin is this, My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready