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Death, which has taken her away to make me cry, ties up my tongue and will not let me speak.

Come is the Bride ready to dip?

Oh son! On the night before your wedding day, death has slept with your wife. There she lies, a flower who was deflowered by death. Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. Death has married my daughter. I will die and leave everything to Death. Life, living—it all is Death’s now.

Have I waited to see this morning for so long, only for it to look like this?

Oh misery! Oh miserable, miserable, miserable day! The saddest day, most miserable day that I ever, ever saw! Oh day! Oh day! Oh day! Oh hateful day! There has never been a day as black as this one. Oh miserable day, Oh miserable day!

She was tricked, baited, pranked, killed! Death clipped her. Cruel, Cruel Death killed her. Oh my love you were my life! There is no more life because my Juliet is Dead.

Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed! Why did you come now, Death, to murder, murder our joy? Oh child! Oh child! My soul and not my child! You are dead! No! My child is dead. My child will be buried together with my joy.

Quiet for Shame. Grieving your daughter's death is not going to help you accept her death. The bit of her that's yours couldn't save her from getting clipped, but the heavenly part? That's got her living forever.

The best you could wish for her was snagging a sugar daddy. Your version of heaven was her reaching  the UNREAL rank. But now you're coping, despite her being the highest in the room, high as heaven itself? Man, mourning her death means you're loving your kid real shabbily, flipping out even though she's chilling up in heaven.

It's more solid for a chick to kick it young, when her marriage’s aura is still sweet and new, than to drag on in marriage until it's super dead. So, wipe those tears, place rosemary on her corpse. And, like tradition goes, fit her out and take her to church. Its natty to cry, but the tears should always be happy tears.

The things that we prepared for the wedding now will be used instead for the funeral. Our musical instruments will be exchanged for mourning bells. Our wedding banquet will be a sad burial feast instead. Our celebratory hymns will change to sad funeral dirges. Our bridal flowers will cover a buried corpse. Everything will be used for the opposite purpose than we expected.

Sir, you go in. Madam, go with him. And you too, Sir Paris. Everyone prepare to follow this beautiful corpse to her grave. The heavens hang over you for some unknown reason. Stop fighting heaven’s will, and it will no longer move against you.

Sir you go first and then Madam you follow him. Yeah and Sir Paris you should probably follow him too. Everyone get ready to follow Juliet to the grave. Heaven hangs over us today for an unknown reason. Stop fighting fate and it will step out of your way.