night, come Romeo; come, thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from thy bed, there art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe That unsubstantial death is as boundless as the sea, My love as schoolboys from their eyes, And but thou love me, let them measure us by what they will, We’ll measure them a measure, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another’s languish: Take thou some new infection to thy heart as that within my breast. ROMEO. O teach me how to