Friar.
There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Nurse.
O, he is even in my mistress' case,--
Just in her case!

Friar.
O woeful sympathy!
Piteous predicament!

Nurse.
Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.--
Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man:
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
Why should you fall into so deep an O?

Romeo.
Nurse!

Nurse.
Ah sir! ah sir!--Well, death's the end of all.

Romeo.
Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth not she think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?