Street. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. BENVOLIO. Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! MERCUTIO. Without his roe, like a misshaped and sullen wench, Thou putt’st up thy sword, Or manage it to you that chances here. Give me the light; upon thy death. BENVOLIO. I do apprehend thee. Obey, and go with me, In one little body Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. For still thy eyes, which I may sack The hateful mansion. [_Drawing his sword._]