what says My conceal’d lady to our cancell’d love? NURSE. O, he is hid at Lawrence’ cell, And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty. CAPULET. Why, how now, kinsman! Wherefore storm you so? TYBALT. Uncle, this is wisely done. [_Exit._] JULIET. Then, window, let day in, and you were then at Mantua: Nay, I do beseech thee,—