Spongebob and Friends

   Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others

ROMEO

    What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
    Or shall we on without a apology?

BENVOLIO

    The date is out of such prolixity:
    We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
    Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
    Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
    Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
    After the prompter, for our entrance:
    But let them measure us by what they will;
    We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

ROMEO

    Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
    Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

MERCUTIO

    Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

ROMEO

    Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
    With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
    So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

MERCUTIO

    You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
    And soar with them above a common bound.

ROMEO

    I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
    To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
    I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
    Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

MERCUTIO

    And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
    Too great oppression for a tender thing.

ROMEO

    Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
    Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

MERCUTIO

    If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
    Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
    Give me a case to put my visage in:
    A visor for a visor! what care I
    What curious eye doth quote deformities?
    Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

BENVOLIO

    Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
    But every man betake him to his legs.

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
    Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
    Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

ROMEO

    Nay, that's not so.