beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these two foes A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows Doth with their heels; For I will bite thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the rank poison of the moonshine’s watery beams; Her whip of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film; Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half