Shot from the deadly [level] of a gun,
Did murther her, as that name's cursed hand
Murther'd her kinsman.—O, tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this [anatomy]
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion. [Drawing his sword.
Friar Laurence.[Hold thy desperate hand]!
[Art thou] a man? thy form cries out thou art;
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast.