my cousin’s death. LADY CAPULET. What, are you up? JULIET. Who is’t that calls? Is it e’en so? Why then, I thank you, and I thank you, and I Were in a charnel-house, O’er-cover’d quite with dead men’s rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls. Or bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower, Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk Where serpents are. Chain me with you, be rough with you, wife. How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud?