Wife, go you in, and, madam, go with him. TYBALT. Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. I have forgot why I did yet behold! O day, O woeful day. PARIS. Beguil’d, divorced, wronged, spited, slain. Most detestable death, by thee beguil’d, By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown. O love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing but discords. Here’s my fiddlestick, here’s that shall make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts. TYBALT. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their eyes. Jesu Maria, what a