1 I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave.
2 I would the fool were married to her grave.
3 Not in a grave To lay one in, another out to have.
4 Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
5 If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
6 He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave, And bid me stand aloof, and so I did.
7 Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.
8 The obsequies that I for thee will keep, Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.
9 Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him, And go, Sir Paris, everyone prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
10 Meantime I writ to Romeo That he should hither come as this dire night To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease.
11 The earth that's nature's mother, is her tomb; What is her burying grave, that is her womb: And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find.
12 Under yond yew tree lay thee all along, Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it.
13 Or bid me go into a new-made grave, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble, And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
14 Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
15 Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate.