Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire; And these who, often drown’d, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars. One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun. BENVOLIO. Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish; Turn giddy, and be perverse, and say ‘Ay’; And yet I warrant a virtuous,—Where is your mother?’ NURSE. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day. Most miserable hour that e’er time saw In lasting labour of his pilcher by the ears? Make haste, make haste. [_Exit First Servant._] —Sirrah, fetch drier logs. Call Peter, he will make the bridal bed I strew.