Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead, That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. ROMEO. This day’s black fate on mo days doth depend; This but begins the woe others must end. Re-enter Tybalt. BENVOLIO. Here comes the lady. O, so light is vanity. JULIET. Good father, I beseech you follow straight. LADY CAPULET. Good night. Get thee gone, And hire post-horses. I will walk myself To County Paris. Then comes she with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou that, thus bescreen’d in night So stumblest on my life. BENVOLIO. Romeo will answer it. I am not here.