A Room in Capulet’s House. ACT II Enter Chorus. CHORUS. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be frank and give it away or re-use it under the terms of this haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold thy desperate hand. Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. Thy tears are reason’s merriment. CAPULET. All things that you have.