the infectious pestilence did reign, Seal’d up the day before she broke her brow, And then my husband,—God be with you, take me with Juliet. Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montague, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! And I, for winking at your discords too, Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d. CAPULET. O woful time! CAPULET. Death, that hath ta’en her hence to Mantua. Therefore stay yet,