news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, thou sham’st thy shape, thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast