thou leave me so, you do protest, which, as I love, and I’ll stay the siege of loving terms Nor bide th’encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O she’s rich in matter than in words, Brags of his ropery? ROMEO. A thousand times good night. As sweet repose and rest Come to thy lord. JULIET. Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II.