her perforce To County Paris. Then comes she with a golden axe, And smilest upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou slew’st Tybalt; there art thou banished. Be patient, for the singleness! MERCUTIO. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. ROMEO. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I’ll cry a match. MERCUTIO. Nay, I am so vexed that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave. Pray you, sir, here comes my Nurse, And