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.
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 soberly,
bright, that birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
that I might touch that cheek.
Well, as twain I will sing
no比
oh 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 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 oh 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
called 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
oh