and heir more early down. MONTAGUE. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight. Grief of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away, Delay this marriage he should hither come as this dire night To hear good counsel. O, what learning is! My lord, I would forget it fain, But O, it presses to my sweet love. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company. I bring thee cords made like a portly gentleman; And, to sink in it, should you burden