Romeo and Juliet Page #4

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scarlet lips, By her

fine foot, straight

leg and quivering

thigh And the

demesnes that

there adjacent lie,

And if he hear thee,

thou wilt anger him.

This cannot anger

him:
my invocation

Is fair and honest,

and in his mistres s'

name I conjure only

but to raise up him.

Come, shall we go?

Go, then; for 'tis

in vain To seek him

here that means

not to be found.

Blind is his love and

best befits the dark.

If love be blind,

love cannot hit

the mark.

He jests at scars

that never felt

a wound

But, soft!

what light through

yonder window breaks?

O Romeo, Romeo!

wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and

refuse thy name;

'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 Belonging

to a man.

O, be some other name!

that which we call

a rose By any other

name would

smell as sweet;

Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name

which is no part of

thee Take all myself.

I take thee at

thy word:
Call me but

love, and I'll be new

baptized; Henceforth

I never will be Romeo.

What man art thou

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.

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

saint, if either

thee dislike.

How camest thou

hither, tell me,

and wherefore?

The orchard walls

are high and hard

to climb,

With love's

light wings did I

o'er-perch these

walls; For stony

limits cannot hold

love out, Therefore

thy kinsmen are

no let to me.

If they do see

thee, they will

murder thee.

I have night's

cloak to hide me from

their sight; 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.

By whose direction

found'st thou out

this place?

By love, who first

did prompt me to

inquire; He lent me

counsel and I lent

him eyes.

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; O

gentle Romeo, If thou

dost love, pronounce

it faithfully:
In

truth, fair Montague,

I am too fond, And

therefore thou mayst

think my 'havior

light:
But trust me,

gentleman, I'll prove

more true Than

those that have more

cunning to

be strange.

Do not impute this

yielding to light

love, Which the

dark night hath

so discovered.

Lady, by yonder

blessed moon I swear

That tips with

silver all these

fruit-tree tops--

O, swear not

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