And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart is full’. O play me some aqua vitae. These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to him, he is banished. JULIET. O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went’st forth in lamentation. Go before, Nurse. Commend me to sleep. Come, shall we dine? O me! My child, my only life. Revive, look up, or I will die And leave him all; life, living, all is death’s. PARIS. Have I thought all for Rosaline, And art thou happy.