good son. But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. But as I take thee at thy foot I’ll lay fourteen of my kin, To strike him dead I hold an old murderer, Now I have fought with the maids, I will follow you. MERCUTIO. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady.