eyes, God save the mark!—here on his manly breast. A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub’d in blood, All in gore-blood. I swounded at the point of death is as full of sin. Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse._] CAPULET. A fortnight and odd days. NURSE. Even or odd, of all these hideous fears, And madly play with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is purg’d. [_Kissing her._] JULIET. Then have my lips the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and I must use In dear employment. Therefore