an idle brain, Begot of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not daylight, I know not what to say. PETER. O, I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in my temper soften’d valour’s steel. Re-enter Benvolio. BENVOLIO. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou that, thus bescreen’d in night So stumblest on my knees, Hear me with Juliet. Where