Rom.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound—
But soft, what light thro' yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! [Juliet appears above, at a window.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick, and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it;
I am too bold—Oh, were those eyes in Heav'n,
They'd through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were the morn.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,† ^note
That I might touch that cheek!

Jul.
Ah me!

Rom.
She speaks, she speaks!
Oh speak again, bright angel, for thou art
As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger from Heav'n,

To the upturned wond'ring eyes of mortals,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul.
Romeo, 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.† ^note

Rom.
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? [Aside.

Jul.
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
What's in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name, would smell as sweet.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that title. Romeo, quit thy name,
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

Rom.
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, I will forswear my name,
And never more be Romeo.

Jul.
What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom.
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.

Jul.
My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words,
Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom.
Neither, fair saint, if either thee displease.

Jul.
How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and for what?
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.

Rom.
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch 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.

Jul.
If they do see thee, they will murther thee.

Rom.
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul.
I would not for the world they saw thee here.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

Rom.
By love, that first did prompt me to enquire,
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes;
I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far,
As that vast shore, wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.* ^note

Jul.
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak, to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke—but farewel compliment
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, ay,
And I will take thy word—yet if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers perjuries
They say Jove laughs. Oh, 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 nay,
So thou wilt woo: but else not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore, thou may'st think my 'haviour light:
But trust me, gentleman, 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 over-heard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion; therefore pardon me,
And not impure this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I vow,* ^note

Jul.
O swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb;
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Rom.
What shall I swear by?

Jul.
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.

Rom.
If my true heart's love—

Jul.
Well, do not swear—Although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden,
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say, it lightens—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.

Rom.
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

Jul.
What satisfaction canst thou have, to-night?

Rom.
Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

Jul.
I gave thee mine, before thou didst request it,
And yet, I would it were to give again.

Rom.
Would'st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?

Jul.
But to be frank, and give it thee, again.
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.
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu. [Nurse calls within.
Anon, good nurse—Sweet Montague, be true?
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.

Rom.
O blessed, blessed night. I am afraid

Being in night, all this is but a dream!
Too flattering-sweet, to be substantial. Re-enter Juliet, above.

Jul.
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 fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
And follow thee, my love, throughout the world. [Within. Madam.
I come, anon—but if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee—[Within. Juliet.] By and by I come—
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.
To-morrow will I send.

Rom.
So thrive my soul.

Jul.
A thousand times good night. [Exit.

Rom.
A thousand times the worse to want thy light. Enter Juliet, again.* ^note

Jul.
Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falk'ner's voice,
To lure this tassel‡ ^note gentle back again—
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud,—
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom.
It is my love that calls upon my name.
How silver-sweet sound lovers tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!

Jul.
Romeo!

Rom.
My sweet!

Jul.
At what o'clock, to-morrow,
Shall I send to thee?

Rom.
By the hour of nine.

Jul.
I will not fail; 'tis twenty years 'till then—
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Jul.
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.

Rom.
And I'll stay here to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul.
'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone;
And yet no further than a wanton's bird,
That lets it hop a little from her hand,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom.
I would I were thy bird.

Jul.
Sweet, so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night, 'till it be morrow. [Exit.

Rom.
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast?
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.

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