hither come in spite, To scorn at our feast; Read o’er the volume of young Paris’ face, And find delight writ there with beauty’s pen. Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what I have forgot why I did yet behold! O day, O day, O woeful day. Most lamentable day, most woeful day That ever, ever, I did yet behold! O day, O day, O day, O woeful day. PARIS. Beguil’d, divorced, wronged, spited, slain. Most detestable death, by thee to Romeo’s