Romeo & Juliet

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  • Art thou gone so, love, lord?
  • Farewell! I will omit no opportunity that may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
  • O God, I have an ill-divining soul. Methinks I see thee now, thou art so low as one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
  • And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!
  • O fortune, fortune! All men call thee fickle. If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him that is renowned for faith?
  • (from within) Ho, daughter, are you up?
  • Madam, I am not well.
  • Why, how now, Juliet?
  • Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
  • Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
  • So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend which you weep for.
  • Feeling so the loss, cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
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