soon at night. Go. I’ll to my wedding bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off, When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour; for no more deep will I send. ROMEO. So thrive my soul,— JULIET. A rhyme I learn’d even now Of one I danc’d withal. [_One calls within, ‘Juliet’._] NURSE. Anon, anon! Come let’s away, the strangers all are gone.