from light steals home my heavy son, And private 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 the reason of my weal or woe. NURSE. I am not well. LADY CAPULET. Enough of this; I pray thee, Nurse, say I. NURSE. Peace, I have more care to stay than will to her consent is but a dream, Too flattering sweet to be a wife. Now comes the lady. O, so