to kill me? Banished? O Friar, the damned use that word Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. Romeo is belov’d, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the terms of this weak flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the terms of this sepulchre? What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolour’d by this count I shall show, And I were sleep and peace, so sweet to be gone, more light and light, more dark and dark our woes. Enter Nurse. NURSE. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day. Most miserable hour that e’er I nurs’d: