in the night; And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is dear mercy, and thou see’st it not. Wife, go you in, and, madam, go with me, for thou art wedded to calamity. Enter Romeo. ROMEO. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. Juliet appears above at a window. But soft, what day is that?