Act II, Scene II

Romeo: But, soft! what light through younder 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 to bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some buisness, do intreat 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 werenot 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
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul: O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny they father and refuse they name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet

Rom: [aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Jul: 'Tis but they 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 name woudl smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff they name,
And for thy name, which is not part of thee,
Take all myself.

Rom: I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul: What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom: 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.

Jul: My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words
Of they tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom: Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.

Jul: 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.

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;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

Jul: If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

Rom: Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Then 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 eyes;
And but thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Then death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

(to be continued when i have time)