As is a winged messenger of heaven 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; Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand nor foot, Nor arm nor face, nor any other part [Aside. Belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name! 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 in night, So stumblest on my counsel? Rom. 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; Rom. With Love's light wings did I o'erperch 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 me from their sight; And, but thou love me, let them find me here: Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By Love's, who first did prompt me to inquire. 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, Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of Night is on my face; And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, moon That monthly changes in her circled orb; ... 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 heart's dear 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; Rom. Oh! wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 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.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, [Nurse calls within. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu !— Anon, good Nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. 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. 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, 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. To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief. Rom. By and by; I come. [Exit. So thrive my soul... Jul. A thousand times good night! Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books; But Love from love, toward school with heavy looks. Re-enter JULIET, above. [Retiring slowly. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! Oh, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name. Rom. Jul. I will not fail; At the hour of nine. '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 lets 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. 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! [Exit. |