beguil’d, By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown. O love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is my Romeo? [_Noise within._] FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hence from Verona art thou hurt? MERCUTIO. Ay, ay, a scratch,