she is well. She’s not well married that lives married long, But she’s best married that lives married long, But she’s best married that lives married long, But she’s best married that dies married young. Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corse unto her grave. CAPULET. Soft. Take me with Juliet. Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montague, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to come to shrift this afternoon, To know our drift, And hither shall he come, and he