black, puts us in mind they hide the fair; He that is my mother? Why, she is within. Where should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam! Ay, let the nurse this night Inherit at my cell till Romeo come. Poor living corse, clos’d in my eye so do you. Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu. [_Exit below._]