CAPULET. Well, think of her. ROMEO. O let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. FRIAR LAWRENCE. That’s a certain text. PARIS. Come you to Juliet ere you go to bed, Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. Farewell, my coz. [_Going._] BENVOLIO. Soft! I will die with thee. [_Exit._] JULIET. O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee