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Ro. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu !

[Exit Romeo. Ju. 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.

L. Cap. [within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?

Ju. Who is 't that calls ? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustom'd cause procures 1 her hither?

Enter LADY CAPULET. L. Cap. Why, how now,

Juliet ? Ju.

Madam, I am not well. L. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's

death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with

tears ? An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; Therefore, have done : some grief shows much of

love;
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

Ju. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
L. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the

friend

| Brings.

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