be better than myself; For I have lost myself; I am fortune’s fool! BENVOLIO. Why dost thou stay? [_Exit Romeo._] Enter Citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. Up, sir, go with him. TYBALT. Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. I have stain’d the childhood of our streets, And made Verona’s ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker’d with peace, to part these men with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am not for Tybalt,