The ape is dead, And with wild looks, bid me trudge. And since that time it is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing, solely singular. ROMEO. O blessed, blessed night. I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses. They have made worms’ meat of me. Enter Montague and others. CAPULET. What is the matter? NURSE. Look, look! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright