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!--
Who ever would have thought it?--Romeo!

Juliet.
What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I,
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
I am not I if there be such an I;
Or those eyes shut that make thee answer I.
If he be slain, say I; or if not, no:
Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nurse.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--
God save the mark!--here on his manly breast.
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
All in gore-blood;--I swounded at the sight.

Juliet.