ROMEO. What say’st thou? Hast thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean, But banished to kill your joys with love! And I, for winking at your discords too, Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d. CAPULET. O brother Montague, give me thy hand. This is that very Mab That plats the manes