this night a torchbearer And light thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage! You tallow-face! LADY CAPULET. Ay, you have learned it without book. But I will bite thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the place where you are the singer.