light
through yonder window breaks?
Ah, it is my lady,
O, it is my love,
O, that she knew she were.
She speaks, yet she says nothing.
What of that?
Are I discourses?
I will answer it. I am too bold.
"'Tis not to me she speaks.
"'Two of the fairest stars
in all the heavens,
"'having some business
to entreat her eyes
"'to twinkle in their
spheres till they return.
"'See how she leans her cheek
upon her hand.
"'Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
"'that I might touch that cheek!'
O Romeo, O Romeo,
wherefore art thou, Romeo,
deny thy father,
and refuse thy name?
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
and I'll no longer be
a Capulet.
Shall I hear more, or
shall I speak of this?
Tis but thy name that is
my enemy.
Thou art thyself, though not Montague.
What is Montague?
It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face,
nor any other part belonging to a man.
O, be some other name!
What's in a name?
That which you call a rose,
by any other name
would smell as sweet.
So Romeo would,
were he not Romeo called,
retain that dear perfection
which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name,
and for that name which is no
part of thee,
take all myself.
Romeo, I take thee at thy word.
Call me but love,
and I'll be new baptised.
Henceforth I never will
be Romeo.
What man art thou,
that thus bescreen'd in night
so stumblest on my counsel?
By a name I know not
how to tell thee who I am.
My name, dear saint,
is hateful to myself,
because it is an enemy to thee.
Had I written, I would tear the word.
My ears have not yet drunk
a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance,
yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Neither, fair maid, if either
thee dislike.
How cam'st thou hither?
Tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard -walls are high
and hard to climb,
And the place death,
considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
With love's light wings
did I aperch these walls,
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do,
that dares love attempt.
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
If they do see thee,
they will murder thee.
I have knights cloaked
to hide me from their eyes.
But thou love me.
Let them find me here.
My life were better
ended by their hate
than death prorogued wanting
of thy love.
Dost thou love me?
I know thou wilt say I,
and I will take thy word.
Yet, if thou swear'st,
thou may'st prove false.
At lovers' perjuries they say Jove laughs.
O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love,
pronounce it faithfully.
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse,
and say thee may, so thou wilt woo.
But else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.
And therefore thou mayst
think my haviour light.
But trust me, gentlemen,
I'll prove more true
than those that
have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange,
I must confess.
But that thou overheard'st ere was
where my true love's passion.
Therefore, pardon me,
and not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon
I swear...
No, swear not by the moon.
Think constant moon,
that monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise
variable.
What shall I swear by?
Do not swear at all.
Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
which is the god of my idolatry,
and I'll believe thee.
If my heart's dear love that...
I swear I...
Oh, Juliet!
Sweet good night,
this bud of love
by summer's ripening breath
may prove a beauteous flower
when next we meet.
Good night, good night,
as sweet repose
and rest come to thy heart
as that within my breast.
O, would thou leave me so unsatisfied?
What satisfaction canst
thou have to -night?
The exchange of thy last faithful
vow for mine.
I gave thee mine
before thou didst request it,
and yet I would it were to give
again.
Wouldst thou withdraw it?
But to be frank,
an d give it thee again,
and yet I wish but for the thing I have.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
my love as deep,
the more I give to thee, the more
I have.
For both are infinite.
A non -good nurse?
Sweet Montague, be true.
Madam!
Stay but a little. I will come again.
Madam? Lady Juliet!
Oh, blessed, blessed night.
Oh, I am afeard be ing in night.
Oh, this is but a dream.
Too flattering sweet
to be substantial.
Three words, dear Romeo,
and good -night, indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
thy purpose marriage,
send me word to -morrow by
one that I'll procure to come to thee,
where and what time
thou wilt perform the rite,
and all my forges at thy foot I'll lay,
and follow thee, my lord,
throughout the world.
Madam? I come and on.
But if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee to cease
thy suit
and leave me to my grief.
Tomorrow will I send?
O, so thrive my soul.
A thousand times good night.
Romeo!
At what o tomorrow
shall I send to thee?
At the hour of nine.
I will not fail.
O, tis twenty years till then.
Romeo! I have forgot
why did call thee back.
Let me stand here till I remember it.
I shall forget to have thee still stand
there remembering how I love thy company.
And I'll still stay to have thee still forget,
forgetting any oth
er home but this.
Good night, good night.
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
You
