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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
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
Ju. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.