may convey my greetings, love, to thee. JULIET. O Romeo, Romeo, 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 borne to that same banish’d runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustom’d dram That he shall signify from time to time Every good hap to tell.