How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry? Which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O, how may I
Call this a lightning? -- O my love! My wife!
Death, that hat suck'd the honey of they breath
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty
Thou art not conquered; Beauty's ensign yet
is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks
And death's pale flag is not advanced there
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheets?
O, what more favor can I do to thee
Than that hand that hath cut thy youth in twain
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin! -- Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in the dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that I still will stay with thee,
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again: here, here I will remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids: O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. --Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace? and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!--
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!-- O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. --Thus with a kiss I die.
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