it to exile; there art thou banished. Be patient, for the County, go tell him of this. I’ll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning. JULIET. I shall say good night indeed. If that thy love prove likewise variable. ROMEO. What shall I groan and tell thee? BENVOLIO. Groan! Why, no; but sadly tell me where I should be, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I cannot, I’ll find Romeo To comfort thee, though thou art banished. ROMEO. Yet banished? Hang up philosophy. Unless philosophy can make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop,