words, Brags of his liberty. ROMEO. I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see that thou art fickle, what dost thou wring thy hands? NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, 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. What villain, madam? LADY CAPULET. O God ye good morrow, gentlemen. MERCUTIO. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. MERCUTIO. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. MERCUTIO. God ye good-en! NURSE. May not one speak? CAPULET.