That after hours with sorrow chide us not!
Romeo. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight.
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love—devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.
Friar Laurence. [These violent delights] have violent ends,
And in their triumph die, [like fire and powder],
Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honey