And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips
That I reviv'd and was an emperor.
[Ah me!] how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!—
Enter [Balthasar]
News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar!
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet? that I ask again,
For nothing can be ill if she be well.