"O true apothecary,
Thy drugs are quick!"
From his first words to his last the feeling is the same. The lady of his love, even in the full swell of her awakened affections, cannot avoid remarking that his contract is
"Too rash, too unadvised, too sudden,
Too like the lightning, which does cease to be
Ere one can say, It lightens."
When he urges his marriage on the friar,
"Rom. O let us home: I stand on sudden haste.
Friar. Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast."
The metaphors put into his mouth are remarkable for their allusions to abrupt and violent haste. He wishes that he may die