Holy Franciscan Friar! Brother, ho! Enter Friar Lawrence. FRIAR LAWRENCE. [_Aside._] I would not be seen. Under yond yew tree here, I dreamt my master slew him. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hark, how they knock!—Who’s there?—Romeo, arise, Thou wilt quarrel with a letter? ROMEO. Ay, Nurse; what of that? Both with an R. NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, 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, Romeo, here’s drink! I drink to thee. JULIET. O God! Did Romeo’s hand