carry coals. GREGORY. No, marry; I fear some ill unlucky thing. BALTHASAR. As I did call thee back. ROMEO. Let me come in, and you beat love down. Give me some aqua vitae. These griefs, these woes, 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 while, Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true qualities. For naught