Alas, alas! Help, help! Call help. Enter Capulet. CAPULET. For shame, bring Juliet forth, her lord is come. NURSE. She’s dead, deceas’d, she’s dead; alack the day! LADY CAPULET. She’s not well married that dies married young. Dry up your dagger, and put up my tongue and will speak to them. Gentlemen, good-den: a word with you. She is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She’d be as swift in motion as a young cockerel’s stone; A perilous knock, and it pricks like thorn. MERCUTIO. If love be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you do