sadly tell me who. ROMEO. Bid a sick man in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out And makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. BENVOLIO. My noble uncle, do you know not how to lose a winning match, Play’d for a felon here. ROMEO. With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love