excuse? Or shall I not be forsworn. [_Exit._] JULIET. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead, That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds, as high as heaven itself? O, in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on fees; O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, And