Or else a broken-hearted maid I’ll be.
If by this cup my senses be capsized
When I have drank this sherry-cobbler down,
Oh! do not, dearest, do not, be surprised,
But wake me gently, Romeo, from my nap.
Jul. To bed, to bed! it’s really getting late. (Knock.)
What knocking’s that? The watchman’s at the gate.
What is undone can’t be done up, ’tis said.
My hair is down, and so to bed, to bed!
Lies down on grave, blows out candle, R. Enter Mercutio, L.