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  • O shut the door, and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!
  • O, Juliet, I know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits. I hear thou must - and nothing may prorogue it - On Thursday next to be married to this County.
  • Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. Take thou this vial, being in bed, and this distilling liquor drink thou off; when presently through all thy veins shall run a cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse shall keep his native progress, but surcease; no warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest.
  • Give me, give me!
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