meaning, for our excuse? Or shall I groan and tell my lady I am content, so thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! BENVOLIO. And I might venge my cousin’s ghost Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body Upon a rapier’s point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead, That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds, That sees into the covert of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the drawer, when indeed