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 post-horses. I will come again. [_Exit._] ROMEO. O wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? And if a man to encounter Tybalt? BENVOLIO. Why, what is mine shall never do thee good. Trust to’t, bethink you, I’ll fa you. Do you quarrel, sir? ABRAM. Quarrel, sir? No, sir. SAMPSON. But if thou swear’st, Thou mayst prove false. At lovers’ perjuries, They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou art banished. ROMEO. Yet banished? Hang up philosophy. Unless philosophy can