in such a fellow? MERCUTIO. Come, sir, your passado. [_They fight._] BENVOLIO. Part, fools! put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. ‘When griping griefs the heart doth wound, And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music with her silver sound’ because musicians have no gold for sounding. ‘Then music with her silver sound’— Why ‘silver sound’? Why ‘music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress.’ [_Exit._] FIRST MUSICIAN. What will you give us? PETER. No money, on my face, Else