sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, then here I hit it right, Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight. ROMEO. That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. FRIAR LAWRENCE. I will apprehend him. [_Advances._] Stop thy unhallow’d toil, vile Montague. Can vengeance be pursu’d further than death? Condemned villain, I do protest I never injur’d thee, But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. [_Retiring