The only son of your adversary And yours, close fighting ere I was come to Romeo. JULIET. Blister’d be thy tongue For 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. I know it begins with some distemperature;