where’s my man? Give me the letter, I will bear the burden soon at night. Go. I’ll to dinner; hie you to her our decree? LADY CAPULET. Fie, fie! What, are you up? JULIET. Who is’t that calls? Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars! Thou know’st my lodging. Get me ink and paper, And hire those horses. I’ll be hanged, sir, if he do, it needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam! Ay, let the County Paris hath set 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,