MERCUTIO: Romeo! Humours! Madman!
Passion! Lover! I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her
high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight
leg and quivering thigh! O, Romeo that she were an open ass, and
thou a poperin pear!
ROMEO: He jests at scars that
never felt a wound.
MERCUTIO: Romeo, good night! And
to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.
ROMEO: 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. Oh cast it off. It is
my lady, It is my love! O, that she knew she were!
JULIET: Ay me!
ROMEO: She speaks, Speak again,
bright angel.
JULIET: Romeo, O 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.
ROMEO: Shall I hear more, or shall
I speak at this?
JULIET: 'Tis but thy name that
is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague?
It is not 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. O Romeo, doff thy name, And
for that name which is no part of thee take all myself.
ROMEO: I take thee at thy word.
JULIET: Ahhh!
JULIET: Art thou not Romeo and
a Montague?
ROMEO: Neither, fair maid, if
either thee dislike.
JULIET: How camest thou hither,
tell me, and wherefore? The garden walls are high and hard to
climb, And the place death, considering who thou art.
ROMEO: 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 stop to me!
JULIET: If they do see thee, they
will murder thee.
ROMEO: 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
it. Wanting of thy love.
JULIET: Thou know'st the mask
of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night Fain would I
dwell on form, fain, fain deny what I have spoke but, farewell
compliment. Dost thou love me? I know thou will 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.
ROMEO: Lady, by yonder blessed
moon I swear That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
JULIET: O, swear not by the moon,
the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb,
That thy love likewise mayest prove variable.
ROMEO: Well what shall I swear
by?
JULIET: 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.
ROMEO: My heart's dear love--
JULIET: Do not swear: although
I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight: It is too
rash, too unadvised, 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
flower when next we meet. Good night. Goodnight.
ROMEO: O, wilt thou leave me so
unsatisfied?
JULIET: What satisfaction can'st
so have to-night?
ROMEO: The exchange of thy love's
faithful vow for mine.
JULIET: I gave thee mine before
thou did'st request it!
NURSE: Juliet!
JULIET: Three words, dear Romeo,
and good night indeed. If that thy bent 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 all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay And follow
thee my lord throughout the world.
NURSE: Juliet!
JULIET: I uh, by and by I come!
But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee--
NURSE: Juliet!
JULIET: By and by, I come! To
cease thy strief, and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send.
ROMEO: So thrive my soul.
JULIET: A thousand times good
night!
ROMEO: 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.
JULIET: Romeo! At what o'clock
to-morrow Shall I send to thee?
ROMEO: By the hour of nine.
JULIET: I will not fail: 'tis
twenty year till then.
JULIET: Good night, good night!
Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till
it be morrow.
