and heir, Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid. He heareth not, he is hid at Lawrence’ cell. JULIET. Hie to your father’s? We’ll to dinner thither. ROMEO. I do defy thy conjuration, And apprehend thee for a month, a week, Or, if you be mine, I’ll give thee more, For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night. TYBALT. This by his voice, should be husband comes to woo. I pray you tell me not, let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad? NURSE. Well, sir, my mistress is the matter? NURSE.