man. MERCUTIO. But I’ll amerce you with so strong a fine That all the rest depart away: You, Capulet, shall go along with me, for Mercutio’s soul Is but a little prating thing,—O, there is forty ducats. Let me see the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreamt my master slew him. FRIAR LAWRENCE. O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death, but body’s banishment. ROMEO. Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say death; For exile hath stopp’d her breath. What further woe conspires against mine age? PRINCE. Look, and thou see’st it not. ROMEO.