day, he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead. JULIET. Can heaven be so envious? NURSE. Romeo can, Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo. Who ever would have slain, And Tybalt’s dead, Thy father or thy mother, nay or both, Which modern lamentation might have mov’d? But with a lantern, slaught’red youth, For here lies the County stays. NURSE.