Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. 

_Mercutio._ If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.-- Give me a case to put my visage in; [_Putting on a mask_] A visor for a visor! what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me. 

_Benvolio._ Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in
But every man betake him to his legs. 

_Romeo._ A torch for me; let wantons light of heart
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase:
I'll be a candle-holder and look on.
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. 

_Mercutio._ Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word;
If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears.--Come, we burn daylight, ho! 

_Romeo._ Nay, that's not so. 

_Mercutio._ I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
Five times in that ere once in our five wits. 

_Romeo._ And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go. 

_Mercutio._ Why, may one ask? 

_Romeo._ I dreamt a dream to-night. 

_Mercutio._ And so did I. 

_Romeo._ Well, what was yours? 

_Mercutio._ That dreamers often lie. 

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