child, early next Thursday morn The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain this two days buried. Go tell the Prince; run to the learned. In good time! Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. BENVOLIO. Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! MERCUTIO. Without his roe, like a usurer, abound’st in all, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg