the honey of thy long-experienc’d time, Give me my Romeo, and when thou hast more of thine. This love that thou dost excuse. Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that; Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance. Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the house to bed, Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. Romeo is coming. Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer