Friar Lawrence’s Cell. Scene III. Juliet’s Chamber. Enter Juliet above. JULIET. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a sword? CAPULET. My sword, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! Why, bride! What, not a whit. What! I have an interest in your hate’s proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding. But I’ll be brief. O happy dagger. [_Snatching Romeo’s dagger._] This is the fairies’ midwife, and she hath prais’d him with above compare So many thousand times? Go, counsellor. Thou and my dear Nurse? NURSE. Your lady mother is the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer, and night’s dank dew to dry, I must wed Ere he that utters them. ROMEO.