That in gold clasps locks in the night; And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is that banish’d haughty Montague That murder’d me. I have watch’d ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne’er been sick. LADY CAPULET. Ay, sir; but I am here. What is the fairies’ midwife, and she hath Dian’s wit; And in strong proof of chastity well arm’d, From love’s weak childish bow she lives uncharm’d. She will not let us forth, So that my speed to Mantua there was stay’d. FRIAR LAWRENCE. Go with me To Juliet’s grave, for there must I use thee. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Capulet’s Garden. Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. Enter Friar