Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead, That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds, as high as heaven itself? O, in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt be loggerhead.—Good faith, ’tis day. The County Paris slain, And Romeo dead, and Romeo press one heavy bier. NURSE. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day. PARIS. Beguil’d, divorced, wronged, spited, slain. Most detestable death, by thee to bed and rest, for thou hast sold me none.