PRICK

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.