Sienna, Dylan and I

A lightning before death: O, how may I 
Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! 
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, 
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
And death's pale flag is not advanced there. 
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
O, what more favour can I do to thee, 
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain 
To sunder his that was thine enemy? 
Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, 
Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe 
That unsubstantial death is amorous, 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour? 
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; 
And never from this palace of dim night 
Depart again: here, here will I remain 
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here 
Will I set up my everlasting rest, 
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! 
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death! 
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! 
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! 
Here's to my love! 
Drinks O true apothecary! 
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
Dies