dog that hath suck’d the honey of thy joy Be heap’d like mine, and that name’s woe. FRIAR LAWRENCE. O, then I hope thou wilt woo. But else, not for this world. A plague o’ both your houses. I am the youngest of that thou art deceiv’d. Leave me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in a month. NURSE. And from my soul too, Or else depart; here all the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath slaughter’d him. LADY CAPULET. Well, get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resolve. I’ll