Farewell!--God
knows
when
we
shall
meet
again.
I
have
a
faint
cold
fear
thrills
through
my
veins
That
almost
freezes
up
the
heat
of
life:
I'll
call
them
back
again
to
comfort
me;--
Nurse!--What
should
she
do
here?
My
dismal
scene
I
needs
must
act
alone.--
Come,
vial.--
What
if
this
mixture
do
not
work
at
all?
Shall
I
be
married,
then,
to-morrow
morning?--
No,
No!--this
shall
forbid
it:--lie
thou
there.--
What
if
it
be
a
poison,
which
the
friar
Subtly
hath
minister'd
to
have
me
dead,
Lest
in
this
marriage
he
should
be
dishonour'd,
Because
he
married
me
before
to
Romeo?
I
fear
it
is:
and
yet
methinks
it
should
not,
For
he
hath
still
been
tried
a
holy
man:--
I
will
not
entertain
so
bad
a
thought.--
How
if,
when
I
am
laid
into
the
tomb,
I
wake
before
the
time
that
Romeo
Come
to
redeem
me?
there's
a
fearful
point!
Shall
I
not
then
be
stifled
in
the
vault,
To
whose
foul
mouth
no
healthsome
air
breathes
in,
And
there
die
strangled
ere
my
Romeo
comes?
Or,
if
I
live,
is
it
not
very
like
The
horrible
conceit
of
death
and
night,
Together
with
the
terror
of
the
place,--
As
in
a
vault,
an
ancient
receptacle,
Where,
for
this
many
hundred
years,
the
bones
Of
all
my
buried
ancestors
are
pack'd;
Where
bloody
Tybalt,
yet
but
green
in
earth,
Lies
festering
in
his
shroud;
where,
as
they
say,
At
some
hours
in
the
night
spirits
resort;--
Alack,
alack,
is
it
not
like
that
I,
So
early
waking,--what
with
loathsome
smells,
And
shrieks
like
mandrakes
torn
out
of
the
earth,
That
living
mortals,
hearing
them,
run
mad;--
O,
if
I
wake,
shall
I
not
be
distraught,
Environed
with
all
these
hideous
fears?
And
madly
play
with
my
forefathers'
joints?
And
pluck
the
mangled
Tybalt
from
his
shroud?
And,
in
this
rage,
with
some
great
kinsman's
bone,
As
with
a
club,
dash
out
my
desperate
brains?--
O,
look!
methinks
I
see
my
cousin's
ghost
Seeking
out
Romeo,
that
did
spit
his
body
Upon
a
rapier's
point:--stay,
Tybalt,
stay!--
Romeo,
I
come!
this
do
I
drink
to
thee.
