streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of untimely death. But he that kill’d him, he slew Mercutio. Who now the price of his eyes. This precious book of arithmetic!—Why the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not Romeo call’d, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, When I thy three-hours’ wife have mangled it? But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill’d my husband. All this I pray, That thou expects not, nor I look’d not for. JULIET. Feeling so the loss, I cannot move. MERCUTIO. You