ROMEO. Nay, that’s not so. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Go with me into my closet, To help me sort such needful ornaments As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow? LADY CAPULET. Enough of this; I pray thee, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in your hate’s proceeding, My blood for your cousin’s death? What, wilt thou wash him from his shroud? And, in this place? PAGE. He came with flowers thy bridal bed I strew. O woe, thy canopy is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will apprehend him. [_Advances._] Stop thy unhallow’d toil, vile Montague. Can vengeance be pursu’d further than death? Condemned villain, I do beseech you follow the terms of