As one dead in the bottom of a tomb;
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Romeo. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you;
[Dry sorrow drinks our blood]. Adieu, adieu! [Exit.
Juliet. O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle;
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
Lady Capulet. [Within] Ho, daughter! are you up?