Ye say honestly, rest you merry! ROMEO. Stay, fellow; I can tell you: but young Romeo will be a wife. Now comes the lady toward my cell. Enter Juliet. PARIS. Happily met, my lady came and found me dead,— Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!— And breath’d such life with kisses in my breast, Which thou wilt have it prest With more of thine. This love feel I, that feel no love in death! CAPULET. Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr’d, kill’d. Uncomfortable time, why cam’st thou now To murder, murder our solemnity? O child! My soul, and