by William Shakespeare

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 are 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, oh, it is my love!
        Oh, 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!
        Oh that I might be a glove upon that hand,
        That I might touch that cheek!

JULIET
         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.
 ROMEO
         [Aside] 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 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 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 that name which is no part of thee
         Take all myself.
 ROMEO
         I take thee at thy word:
         Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
         Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
 JULIET
         What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
         So stumblest on my counsel?
 ROMEO
         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.
 JULIET
         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?
 ROMEO
         Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

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