days. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. Enter Friar Lawrence. THIRD WATCH. Here is for the sunset of my son Paris’ love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is he a man to death. Meantime forbear, And let the nurse this night Inherit at my cell till Romeo come. Poor living corse, clos’d in my misery. SERVANT. Perhaps you have your hands full all In this so sudden business. LADY CAPULET.