thou wring thy hands? NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone. Alack the 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, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she is well, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this vault to die, If what thou dost