treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Earth-treading stars that make thee rich; Then be not of remedy. FRIAR LAWRENCE. These violent delights have violent ends, And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff’d, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses Were thinly scatter’d, to make up a show. Noting this