NURSE.
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
JULIET.
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd:
He made you for a highway to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
NURSE.
Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo
To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:
I'll to him; he is hid at Lawrence' cell.
JULIET.
O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell.
[Exeunt.]
