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ACT 3, SCENE 2
Ay me! what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands?
Ay, ay, the cords
Can heaven be so envious?
Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone! Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
What devil art thou that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roared in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but “ay,” And that bare vowel I shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. I am not I if there be such an I, Or those eyes shut that makes thee answer “ay.” If he be slain, say “ay,” or if not, “no.” Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
Romeo can, Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
O, break, my hear, poor bankrupt, break at once!To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty.Vile earth, to earth resign. End motion here,And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes— God save the mark!—here on his manly breast. A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse. Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood, All in gore blood. I swoonèd at the sight.
What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughtered, and is Tybalt dead? My dearest cousin and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!For who is living if those two are gone?
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! Honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead.
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