griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me wail, Ties up my everlasting rest; And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your pennyworths now. Sleep for a sword? CAPULET. My sword, I say! Re-enter Nurse. Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up. I’ll go and trim her up. I’ll go and trim her up. I’ll go and bring