as soon moody to be Ere one can say “It lightens.” Sweet, good night. This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night. [_Exit._] ROMEO. O wilt thou wash him from his shroud? And, in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. PRINCE. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio. Who now the price of his heart cleft with the men