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Romeo:
A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;
For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase,
I’ll be a candle-holder and look on,
The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done.
Mercutio:
Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word:
If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire
Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho.
Romeo:
Nay, that’s not so.
Mercutio:
I mean sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, light lights by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
Romeo:
And we mean well in going to this mask;
But ’tis no wit to go.
Mercutio:
Why, may one ask?
Romeo:
I dreamt a dream tonight.
Mercutio:
And so did I.
Romeo:
Well what was yours?
Mercutio:
That dreamers often lie.
Romeo:
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.