Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins that almost freezes up in the heat of life. I’ll call them in to comfort me. Nurse! What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Come vial. What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married then tommorow morning? No, no. This shall forbid it. Lie thou there. What if it be a poision which the Friar subtly hath ministered to have me dead? Lest in this marridge he should be dishonored because he married me before to Romeo. I fear it is, and yet me thinks it should not for he hath tried to be a holy man. How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time Romeo come to redeem me? There’s a fearful point!
