SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell.Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket. FRIAR LAWRENCE.Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,The day to cheer, and night’s dank dew to dry,I must upfill this osier cage of oursWith baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.The earth that’s nature’s mother, is her tomb;What is her burying grave, that is her womb:And from her womb children of divers kindWe sucking on her natural bosom find.Many for many virtues excellent,None but for some, and yet all different.O, mickle is the powerful grace that liesIn plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities.For naught so vile that on the earth