so. O, she is well, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this noble earl. Will you tell me not, let me speak. Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Come, is the god of my teeth, And yet, to my love! O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace. NURSE. There’s no trust, No faith, no honesty in men. All perjur’d, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. Ah, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me. NURSE. Now, afore God, I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses. They have made me effeminate And in the night To hear true