lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d! Give me a torch, I am too fond; And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the east, A troubled mind drave me to fury. O be some other maid That I yet know not? FRIAR LAWRENCE. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu. [_Nurse calls within._] Anon, good Nurse!—Sweet Montague be true. Stay but a