Jul. I like those colors well, I do confess:
Those stripes are just the style of my new dress.
Rom. To seek that blissful land, I think we’d orter.
Jul. But I’m so horrid sick upon the water!
Mer. Come, Capulet, your blessing I command;
Then pack up trunks, and off for Yankee land.
Cap. What! end a tragedy without a death?
It’s horrible: you take away my breath!
Mer. Then we shall have one sure, let’s move along:
We’ll end our tragedy with a yachting song.