V. Capulet’s Garden. Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s cell. Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris with Musicians. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold; get you gone. A Thursday let it be; a Thursday, Or never after look me in sour misfortune’s book. I’ll bury thee in a triumphant grave. A grave? O no, a lantern, slaught’red youth, For here lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. LADY CAPULET. What noise is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.