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heaven

      Would through the airy region stream so bright

      That birds would sing and think it were not night.

      See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

      O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

      That I might touch that cheek!

      Juliet. Ay me!

      Romeo. She speaks.—

      O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

      As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

      As is a winged messenger of heaven

      Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

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      Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,

      When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds

      And sails upon the bosom of the air.

      Juliet. O 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.

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

      Juliet. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

      Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

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      What's 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 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, doff thy name,

      And for that name, which is no part of thee,

      Take all myself.

      Romeo. I take thee at thy word.

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      Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;

      Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

      Juliet. What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night

      So stumblest on my counsel?

      Romeo. 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 it written, I would tear the word.

      Juliet. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words

      Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound.—

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      Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?

      Romeo. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.

      Juliet. 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.

      Romeo. 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 let to me.

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

      Romeo. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye

      Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,

      And I am proof against their enmity.

      Juliet. I would not for the world they saw thee here.

      Romeo. I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes;

      And but thou love me, let them find me here.

      My life were better ended by their hate

      Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

      Juliet. By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

      Romeo. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire;

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      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.

      Juliet. 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 farewell compliment!

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      Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ay,

      And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st,

      Thou mayst 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 nay,

      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;

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      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 overheard'st, ere I was ware,

      My true love's passion; therefore pardon me,

      And not impute this yielding to light love,

      Which the dark night hath so discovered.

      Romeo. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear

      That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—

      Juliet. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

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      That monthly changes in her circled orb,

      Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

      Romeo. What shall I swear by?

      Juliet. 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.

      Romeo. If my heart's dear love—

      Juliet. Well, do not swear. Although

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