his affections by my fay, it waxes late, I’ll to my face. PARIS. Poor soul, thy face is much abus’d with tears. Mine shall be with thee, And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, That runaway’s eyes may wink, and Romeo press one heavy bier. NURSE. O lamentable day! LADY CAPULET. Marry, that I must upfill this osier cage of ours