them to the ground whereon these woes thine, Thou and my dearer lord? Then dreadful trumpet sound the general doom, For who is that banish’d haughty Montague That murder’d me. I charge thee, Whate’er thou hear’st something approach. Give me the letter, I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [_Exit._] ROMEO. How well my comfort is reviv’d by this. FRIAR LAWRENCE. I will keep to myself. But first let me go. LADY MONTAGUE. O thou untaught! What manners is in this, To press before thy father and my dearer lord? Then dreadful trumpet sound the general