MONTAGUE: He's been seen there many mornings, adding his teardrops to the morning dewdrops.
But as soon as the sun rises, my sad son comes home, pens himself in his room, shuts the windows, and makes himself an artificial night.
This mood of his is going to bring bad news, unless someone can fix what's bothering him.
BENVOLIO: Noble uncle, do you know why he acts this way?
MONTAGUE: I don't, and he won't tell me.
BENVOLIO: Have you tried everything you can to make him tell you?
MONTAGUE: I've tried. He doesn't want any friend but himself.
He's shut himself up tight, like a beautiful flower bud being poisoned from within.
BENVOLIO: Look, here he comes.
If you don't mind, please step aside. He'll tell me what's wrong if I have to drag it out of him.
MONTAGUE: I hope that you receive his true confession. Come madam, let's go.