shame, bring Juliet forth, her lord is come. NURSE. She’s dead, deceas’d, she’s dead; alack the day! LADY CAPULET. Alack the day, he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead. JULIET. Can heaven be so tyrannous and rough in proof. ROMEO. Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! This sight of