Romeo and Juliet: Act 2, Scene 2

     romeo

   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; 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!

      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 puffing clouds
  And sails upon the bosom of the air.

      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
  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.

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