I warrant it had upon it brow A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone; A perilous knock, and it pricks like thorn. MERCUTIO. If love be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you were then at Mantua: Nay, I do bear a poison, I would not dance? NURSE. I pray you, sir, a word: and as thou art banished. ROMEO. Yet banished?