eternal

      In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. 

   Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! 

   What said my man, when my betossed soul 

   Did not attend him as we rode? I think 

   He told me Paris should have married Juliet: 

  Said he not so? or did I dream it so? 

    Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 

    To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, 

   One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! 

   I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave; 

  A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, 

   For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 

   This vault a feasting presence full of light. 

   Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

       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 hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, 

    Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: 

  Thou art not conquer'd; 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 sheet? 

   O, what more favor can I do to thee, 

    Than with that hand that 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 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 will I remain 

   With worms that are thy chamber-maids; 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.