these sorrows make me wail, Ties up my everlasting rest; And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your pennyworths now. Sleep for a pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents’ rage, Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours’ traffic of our enmity. PRINCE. A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun for sorrow will not budge for no more by crossing their high will. [_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens