In the meantime, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, And hither shall he come, and he and I Will watch thy waking, and that very night Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. Then, as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes uncovered on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. Each part, deprived of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death. The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To wanny ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall Like death when he shuts up the day of life.

No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest. Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distillèd liquor drink thou off, When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humor, for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease.

Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.

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