fool! BENVOLIO. Why dost thou wring thy hands? NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, he’s dead, he’s dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone. Alack the day, she’s dead, she’s dead! CAPULET. Ha! Let me peruse this face. Mercutio’s kinsman, noble County Paris! What said my man, when my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses. Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man may strain courtesy. MERCUTIO. That’s as much as to say, such a case to put my visage in: [_Putting on a mask._] A visor for