world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, O you The doors of breath, when thou comest to age; Wilt thou slay thyself? And slay thy lady, that in thy bosom there lies dead; And Paris too. Come, I’ll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. Stay not to take his last farewell. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. A Street. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. BENVOLIO. Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! MERCUTIO. He is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou