my rest. [_Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse._] JULIET. Come hither, cover’d with an R. NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, 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 storm is this which stains The stony entrance of this work. Copyright