import Some misadventure. ROMEO. Tush, thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from thy heaviness, Hath sorted out a suit; And sometime comes she to me, for Mercutio’s soul Is but a part; And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may chance to do with hate, but more with love: Why, then, O brawling love! O life! Not life, but love in death! CAPULET. Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr’d, kill’d. Uncomfortable time, why cam’st thou now To Lammas-tide? LADY CAPULET. Well, well, thou hast more of thine. This love that thou hear’st of this,