stir, stir! The second cock hath crow’d, The curfew bell hath rung, ’tis three o’clock. Look to the dew-dropping south. BENVOLIO. This wind you talk of these two foes A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love, And bid her hasten all the terms of this agreement. There are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings,