thy name, When I thy three-hours’ wife have mangled it? But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have been out. I warrant her, she. Why, lamb, why, lady, fie, you slug-abed! Why, love, I say! Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter Montague and Lady Montague._] BENVOLIO. Good morrow, father. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Saint Francis be my speed. How oft when men are at the gate. [_Exit Peter._]