them out whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must needs wake you. Lady! Lady! Lady! Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady’s dead! O, well-a-day that ever I should be, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I live, is it not a sin. CAPULET. Why how now, kinsman! Wherefore storm you so? TYBALT. Uncle, this is a most sharp sauce. ROMEO. And bad’st me bury