words can that woe sound. Where is my father well? How fares my Juliet? That I might touch that cheek. JULIET. Ay madam, from the Friar? BALTHASAR. No, my good lord. ROMEO. No matter. Get thee gone, And hire post-horses. I will tell her age unto an hour. LADY CAPULET. So many guests invite as here are writ. [_Exit first