BENVOLIO: That very same wind now blows us off our course. Supper is done, and we shall arrive too late.
ROMEO: I fear that we'll be too early.
My mind senses some terrible fortune, that will begin with these revels...
...And will end with my death.
...But he who controls the course of my life can direct my fate.
On, you red-blooded boys!
BENVOLIO: Beat the drum!