Fr: Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 60
Rom: Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feele.
Wert thou as young as I, Iuliet thy Loue,
An houre but married, Tybalt murdred.
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then mightst thou speake, then mightst thou teare thy hayre. 65
And fall vpon the ground as I doe now,
Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.
Nurse knockes.
Fr: Romeo arise, stand vp thou wilt be taken,
I heare one knocke, arise and get thee gone.
Nu: Hoe Fryer. 70
Fr: Gods will what wilfulnes is this?
Shee knockes againe.
Nur: Hoe Fryer open the doore,
Fr: By and by I come. Who is there?
Nur: One from Lady Iuliet.