Rom. But, soft! what light in yonder window lies?
It is the (y)east.
Mer. There’s something on the rise.
Rom. It is the east, and Juliet is the sun—
Arise! fair sun.
Mer. Oh, murder! do have done;
Of grammar you are making fearful slaughter.
What gender makes a son of Capulet’s daughter?
Rom. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon—
Mer. You are getting to the killing part too soon.