Romeo and Juliet
Act II, Scene 2
- Romeo advances.
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- He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
- Enter Juliet above at her window.
- But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
- It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
- 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.
- Be not her maid, since she is envious;
- Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
- And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
- It is my lady, O, it is my love!
- O that she knew she were!
- She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
- Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
- I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks.
- Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
- Having some business, do entreat her eyes
- To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
- What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
- The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
- As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in 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!
- Ay me!
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- 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 wond’ring eyes
- Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
- When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds,
- And sails upon the bosom of the air.
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- 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.
- Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
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- ’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!
- What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
- By any other word 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 thy name, which is no part of thee,
- Take all myself.
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- I take thee at thy word.
- Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d;
- Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
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- What man art thou that thus bescreen’d in night
- So stumblest on my counsel?
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- 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.
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- My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words
- Of thy tongue’s uttering, yet I know the sound.
- Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
- Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
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- How camest 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.
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- 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;
- Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
- If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
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- Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
- Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet,
- And I am proof against their enmity.
- I would not for the world they saw thee here.
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- 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.
- By whose direction foundst thou out this place?
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- By love, that 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,
- I should adventure for such merchandise.
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- Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,
- Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
- For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.
- Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
- What I have spoke, but farewell compliment!
- Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, “Ay,”
- And I will take thy word; yet, if thou swear’st,
- Thou mayest prove false: at lovers’ perjuries
- They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
- If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
- Or if thou thinkest 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 mayest think my behavior light,
- But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true
- Than those that have more coying to be strange.
- I should have been more strange, I must confess,
- But that thou overheardst, ere I was ware,
- My true-love passion; therefore pardon me,
- And not impute this yielding to light love,
- Which the dark night hath so discovered.
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- Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow,
- That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—
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- O, swear not by the moon, th’ inconstant moon,
- That monthly changes in her circled orb,
- Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
- What shall I swear by?
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- 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.
- If my heart’s dear love—
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- Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,
- I have no joy of this contract tonight,
- 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 flow’r when next we meet.
- Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest
- Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
- O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
- What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?
- Th’ exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.
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- I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
- And yet I would it were to give again.
- Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?
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- 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,
- The more I have, for both are infinite.
- 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 above.
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- O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
- Being in night, all this is but a dream,
- Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
- Enter Juliet above.
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- Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
- If that thy bent of love be honorable,
- Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow,
- 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 lord throughout the world.
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- I come, anon.—But if thou meanest not well,
- I do beseech thee—
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- By and by, I come—
- To cease thy strife, and leave me to my grief.
- Tomorrow will I send.
- So thrive my soul—
- A thousand times good night!
- Exit above.
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- 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.
- Enter Juliet again above.
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- Hist, Romeo, hist! O, for a falc’ner’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,
- And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
- With repetition of my Romeo’s name. Romeo!
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- It is my soul that calls upon my name.
- How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,
- Like softest music to attending ears!
- My nyas?
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- What a’ clock tomorrow
- Shall I send to thee?
- By the hour of nine.
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- I will not fail, ’tis twenty year till then.
- I have forgot why I did call thee back.
- Let me stand here till thou remember it.
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- I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
- Rememb’ring how I love thy company.
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- And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget,
- Forgetting any other home but this.
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- ’Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone—
- And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird,
- That lets it hop a little from his hand,
- Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
- And with a silken thread plucks it back again,
- So loving-jealous of his liberty.
- I would I were thy bird.
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- 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.
- Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
- Exit above.
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- Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
- Hence will I to my ghostly sire’s close cell,
- His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.