SARAH: Hello, gentlemen. Welcome back. 

CAPULET: Surprised to see me back so soon, Sarah. Well, I can't stay long. We have a wedding to get ready for. But that's okay. I'm full of energy. I feel like it's 1560s Verona all over again, fights, parties. 

SARAH: Yes. Well, it's just about time when the nurse should be waking Juliet up to get ready when you hear a commotion coming from her room. 

CAPULET: Commotion? 

SARAH: Yes. And your wife cries out for help. 

CAPULET: Oh, come on. This is ridiculous. She needs to get ready. Do you have any idea how long it takes her to put on a dress? And Paris is already here. Nervous as a chicken. 

SARAH: Yes. Well, you go to check on them, and you find your wife and the nurse utterly distraught. And they both tell you that Juliet is dead. 

CAPULET: Dead? What? Is this some kind of joke? 

SARAH: I'm afraid not, sir. She really seems to be dead. 

CAPULET: I should see for myself. 

SARAH: Yes, that's just what you do. And here's how you describe what you see. "Out, alas! She's cold. Her blood is settled and her joints are stiff. Life and these lips have long been separated. Death lies on her like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of the field." 

CAPULET: Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. 

SARAH: Right at this moment, Paris and the Friar arrive, presumably, to take the young bride to church. 

CAPULET: She's ready to go to church, but never to return. Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter, he hath wedded I will die and leave him all. Life, living, all is death's. 

SARAH: Paris, needless to say, is quite upset as well. 

CAPULET: The cursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day. Most miserable hour that e'er time saw. In lasting labor of his pilgrimage. But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, but one thing to rejoice and solace in, and cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! Dead art thou! Alack, my child is dead. And with my child my joys are buried. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Sarah, may I say something? 

SARAH: Yes, please, Friar Laurence. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Confusion's cure lives not in these confusions. 

SARAH: I'm sorry. I'm confused. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Sir, I know it may be small solace right now, but it was with heaven's help that you had Juliet in the first place. And now heaven has all of her. And it's so much better for Juliet. Don't you see? The part you gave her, her mortal life, was bound to die some day. But heaven has given her eternal life. You tried to give her a better life by having her marry Paris. But why weep now seeing that she is in the highest place of all, in heaven itself? Going mad with grief is not love, especially when you know that Juliet is well. She's doing well. More than well, she's fantastic. 

SARAH: Friar Lawrence, surely you're not suggesting that Juliet's family shouldn't be sad at all. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Though fond nature bids us all lament, yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. 

SARAH: I'm sorry?

FRIAR LAURENCE: It's natural to cry. Our hearts can't help it. But if we think about what's really happening, that Juliet is with God again, well, that's great, isn't it? We have reason to rejoice. 

CAPULET: All things that we ordained festival turn from their office to black funeral. Our instruments to melancholy bells. Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast. Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change. Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corpse, and all things change them to the contrary. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Maybe it's a little early for the whole rejoice thing. Hey, let's go. We need to get her body to the family tomb as custom dictates, and quickly. You don't want to risk the wrath of the heavens by going against their wills. Thanks, Sarah. We need to go. Family tomb, here we come. 

SARAH: Of course, by all means, I understand. Sir, I'm so very sorry for your sadness.