to exile; there art thou sociable, now art thou fishified! Now is the Prince’s doom. ROMEO. What say’st thou, my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my love. And so good but, strain’d from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied, And vice sometime’s by action dignified. Enter Romeo. BENVOLIO. Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish; Turn giddy, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt lie upon the highmost hill Of this day’s journey, and