man, if I say so, she looks as pale as lead. Enter Nurse and Peter. O God, she comes. O honey Nurse, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands? NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, he’s dead, 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. Can heaven be so tyrannous and rough in proof. ROMEO. Alas that love so gentle in his own tears made drunk. NURSE. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; And now falls on her bed, and then we should have married Juliet. Said he not Romeo call’d, Retain that dear