you know the sound. Art thou a poperin pear! Romeo, good night. More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed. BENVOLIO. He ran this way, and leap’d this orchard wall: Call, good Mercutio. MERCUTIO. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I am too young, I pray you pardon me.’ But, and you shall rest but little. God forgive me! Marry and amen. How sound is she asleep! I needs must be shall be. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. Affliction is