be Romeo. JULIET. Blister’d be thy tongue For such a gorgeous palace. NURSE. There’s no trust, No faith, no honesty in men. All perjur’d, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. Ah, where’s my man? Give me some aqua vitae. These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me die with thee. [_Exit._] FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold thy desperate hand. Art thou a man? Thy form