Weele measure them with a Measure, and be gone

Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling.
Being but heauy I will beare the light

Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance

Rom. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes
With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue

Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings,
And soare with them aboue a common bound

Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft,
To soare with his light feathers, and to bound:
I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe,
Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke

Hora. And to sinke in it should you burthen loue,
Too great oppression for a tender thing

Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne

Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue,
Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,
Giue me a Case to put my visage in,
A Visor for a Visor, what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities: