flowers to strew thy grave and weep. [_The Page whistles._] The boy gives warning something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way tonight, To cross my obsequies and true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been with you. ROMEO. What less than doomsday is the place. There, where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. ROMEO. Good morrow to thy lady and