That we were driven to such extremes,
And came to our end by poisonous means,
Through drinking too much of the balmy.
Rom. Come, fatal syrup, soothe my aching breast;
Come, Mrs. Winslow, come and give me rest.
Here’s to my love, hip, hip, hip, hurray!
Tumbles on grave, L.
That’s given me a settler any way.
Enter Capulet, L., ringing a bell.
Cap. Lost, lost, lost, strayed, stolen, or run away!