"Friar Lawrence alone, with a basket The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Check’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day’s path and Titan’s burning wheels. Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye The day to cheer and night’s dank dew to dry. I must spill this oster cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers."