you. Ah my mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She I’ll swear hath corns. Am I the master here, or you? Go to. You’ll not endure him. CAPULET. He shall be much unfurnish’d for this world. A plague o’ both your houses. I am glad on’t. This is she,— ROMEO. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talk’st of nothing. MERCUTIO. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the singer. I will show thee where they are.