You are a saucy boy.—Is 't so, indeed?—
This trick may chance to [scathe] you,—I know what.
You must [contrary] me! marry, 'tis time.—
[Well said], my hearts!—You are a princox; go!
Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame!
I'll make you quiet. What!—Cheerly, my hearts!
Tybalt. [Patience perforce] with wilful choler meeting
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, [convert] to bitter gall. [Exit.