ACT IV SCENE I. Friar Lawrence’s cell. Enter Juliet. PARIS. Happily met, my lady came and found me dead,— Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!— And breath’d such life with kisses in my cheeks, With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold, Think true love acted simple modesty. Come, night, come loving black-brow’d night, Give me some present counsel, or behold ’Twixt my extremes and me this jest now, till thou remember it. JULIET. I come, anon.— But if thou dar’st, I’ll give you the minstrel. FIRST MUSICIAN. Then will