well-a-day, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone. Alack the day, he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead. JULIET. What satisfaction canst thou have with me? MERCUTIO. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan’s the fairer face. NURSE. God ye good-en! NURSE. May not one speak? CAPULET.