Her vestal livery is but sick and green, O, that she knew she were!— She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that, That I might touch that cheek! Jul. 4 Rom. Ah, me! Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Jul. 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. Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this! Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy. [Aside What's in a name? that which we call a rose, And for that name, which is no part of thee, Rom. I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be_new baptiz'd; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd Rom. By a name Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. 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? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. 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, any of my kinsmen find thee here. If 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, Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder 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. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide mé from their sight; And, but thou love me,† let them find me here: Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; + Unless thou love me. * Hinderance. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour* light. moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Jul. Do not swear at all, Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, And I'll believe thee. Rom. If my heart's dear love Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee. I have no joy in this contract of to-night: It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden: Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Rom. The 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 pur pose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. [Nurse calls within. Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. Re-enter JULIET, above. [Exit. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed. If that thy bentt 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 follow thee my lord throughout the world. Jul. I come, anon:-But if thou mean'st not well I do beseech thee, Nurse. [Within.] Madam. Jul. By and by, I come: To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: Rom. So thrive my soul.— Jul. A thousand times good night! [Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly Re-enter JULIET, above. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!-O, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle* back again! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud. Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name! 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, Rememb'ring how I love thy company. Rom. And I'll still stay; 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; Who let's it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,† And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty. Rom. I would, I were thy bird. *The male of the goshawk. † Fetters. |