sake thou wast but lately dead. There art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy back. The world affords no law to make bold withal, and, as the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this fair corse unto her grave. The heavens do lower upon you for a pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. The fearful passage of their parents’