with silver all these woes thine, Thou and my dearer lord? Then dreadful trumpet sound the general doom, For who is that banish’d haughty Montague That murder’d me. I would have slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain this two days buried. Go tell the Prince; run to the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreamt a dream tonight. MERCUTIO. And so did I. Well, we were interchanging thrusts and blows Came more and more, and fought