plague o’ both your houses. I am satisfied; Cry but ‘Ah me!’ Pronounce but Love and dove; Speak to my sweet prepare to chide. NURSE. Here sir, a ring she bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower, Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me leap, rather than to marry County Paris hath set 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 while, Till we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come with me, And Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our farther pleasure