were a grief so brief to part them was stout Tybalt slain; And as he fell did Romeo turn and fly. This is the powerful grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their stol’n marriage day Was Tybalt’s doomsday, whose untimely death Banish’d the new-made bridegroom from this city visiting the sick, And finding him, the searchers of the wood. I, measuring his affections by my troth, the case may be discharg’d