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Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale and not the lark.
It was the lark, the herald of the morn. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Let me be ta ' en, let me be put to death. I have more care to stay than will to go. Come death, and welcome. Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? Let's talk. It is not day.
Yond light is not daylight, i know it, I. Thou need'st not be gone.
It is, it is. Hie hence, be gone, away. O, now be gone, more light and light it grows.
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