𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱; 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘺𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐, 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘝; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮.

"Are you going? It's still a long time until daybreak. Don't be afraid. That sound you heard was the nightingale, not the lark." I frowned at Corbyn as he stood on my balcony, "Every night the nightingale chirps on that pomegranate-tree. Believe me, my love, it was the nightingale." Referring to the bird that sings at night. 

"It was the lark, the bird that sings at dawn, not the nightingale." Corbyn nodded, "Look, my love, what are those streaks of light in the clouds parting in the east? Night is over, and day is coming. If I want to live, I must go. If I stay, I'll die."

"That light is not daylight, I know it. It's some meteor coming out of the sun to light your way to Mantua. So stay for a while. You don't have to go yet." I pleaded.

"Let me be captured. Let me be put to death. I am content, if that's the way you want it." Corbyn nodded, frantically, and grinned, "I'll say the light over there isn't morning. I'll say it's the reflection of the moon. I'll say that sound isn't the lark ringing in the sky. I want to stay more than I want to go. Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wants it this way. How are you, my love? Let's talk. It's not daylight."

"It is, it is. Get out of here, be gone, go away!" I gasped, seeing the sun rising over the hills, "Because the lark's voice tears us out of each other's arms, and now there will be men hunting for you. Oh, go away now. I see more and more light."

"More and more light. More and more pain for us." Corbyn took my hands in his.

"Madam." Nurse said, walking onto the balcony. 

"Nurse?" I prompted.

"Your mother is coming to your bedroom. Day has broken. Be careful. Watch out." Nurse told me, before walking out of my bedroom.

"Then the window lets day in, and life goes out the window." I sighed.

"Farewell, farewell! Give me one kiss, and I'll go down." Corbyn smiled. I took his face in my hands and kissed him passionately, and when we broke apart, he dropped down the ladder, and climbed down it. 

"Are you gone like that, my love, my lord? Yes, my husband, my friend! I must hear from you every day in the hour." I called to him, "Oh, by this count I'll be many years older before I see my Corbyn again."

"Farewell! I won't miss any chance to send my love to you." Corbyn nodded.

"Oh, do you think we'll ever meet again?" I asked with a sullen expression.

"I have no doubts. All these troubles will give us stories to tell each other later in life." Corbyn smiled, weakly.

"Oh God, I have a soul that predicts evil things! Now that you are down there, you look like someone dead in the bottom of a tomb." I protested, "Either my eyesight is failing me, or you look pale."

"And trust me, love, you look pale to me too. Sadness takes away our colour. Goodbye, Goodbye!" Corbyn waved to me before running away.

"Oh luck, luck. Everyone says you can't make up your mind. If you change your mind so much, what are you going to do to Corbyn, who's so faithful?" Tears filled my eyes, "Change your mind, luck. I hope maybe then you'll send him back home soon." 

"Hey, daughter! Are you awake?" My mother called to me. 

"Who's that calling? Is it my mother? Isn't she up very late? Or is she up very early? What strange reason could she have for coming here?" I said to myself before turning around.

"What's going on, Juliet?" My mother asked, walking onto the balcony.

"Madam, I am not well." I frowned.

"Will you cry about your cousin's death forever? Are you trying to wash him out of his grave with tears? If you could, you couldn't bring him back to life." My mother sighed, "So stop crying. A little bit of grief shows a lot of love. But too much grief makes you look stupid."

"Let me keep weeping for such a great loss," I told her.

"You will feel the loss, but the man you weep for will feel nothing." She said.

"Feeling the loss like this, I can't help but weep for him forever." I sighed.

"Well, girl, you're weeping not for his death as much as for the fact that the villain who killed him is still alive." My mother scowled.

"What villain, madam?" I asked.

"That villain, Romeo." She glared.

"He's far from being a villain." I whispered to myself, "May God pardon him! I do, with all my heart. And yet no man could make my heart grieve like he does." I said to my mother.

"That's because the murderer is alive." My mother glowered.

"Yes, madam, he lies beyond my reach. I wish that no one could avenge my cousin's death except me!" I half-shouted.

"We'll have revenge for it. Don't worry about that. Stop crying. I'll send a man to Mantua, where that exiled rogue is living. Our man will poison Corbyn's drink, and Corbyn will join Jonah in death. And then, I hope, you'll be satisfied." She nodded.

"I'll never be satisfied with Corbyn until I see him... dead- dead is how my poor heart feels when I think about my poor cousin." I trailed off, "Madam, if you can find a man to deliver the poison, I'll mix it myself so that Corbyn will sleep quietly soon after he drinks it."

"Find out the way, and I'll find the right man. But now I have joyful news for you, girl." My mother smiled.

"And it's good to have joy in such a joyless time. What's the news? Please tell me." I asked.

"Well, well, you have a careful father, child. He has arranged a sudden day of joy to end your sadness. A day that you did not expect and that I did not seek out." She nodded.

"Madam, tell me quickly, what day is that?" I questioned.

"Indeed, my child, at Saint Peter's Church early Thursday morning, the gallant, young, and noble gentleman Count Griffin will happily make you a joyful bride." My mother grinned. 

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𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦.
𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴