be gone. NURSE. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up, put up, For well you know this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death, That murder’d my love’s cousin,—with which grief, It is supposed, the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov’st; With all the town Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are