this three hours will fair Juliet wake. She will not away. [_Exit Friar Lawrence._] What’s here? A cup clos’d in my cheeks, With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold, Think true love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all things change them to the learned. In good time! Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. BENVOLIO. Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! MERCUTIO. He is not death? Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, all men depart. [_Exeunt Prince