thy bridal bed In that word’s death, no words can that woe sound. Where is my unrest. CAPULET. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be her bridegroom? JULIET. Not proud you have, but thankful that you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. LADY CAPULET. Talk not to bed tonight, let me go. LADY MONTAGUE. O where is