_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, 110 Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
_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.
_Juliet._ Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night; It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good night! 120 This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
_Romeo._ O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
_Juliet._ What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
_Romeo._ The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
_Juliet._ I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again.
_Romeo._ Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? 130
_Juliet._ But to be frank and give it thee again; And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. [_Nurse calls within._ I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!-- Anon, good nurse!--Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [_Exit._
_Romeo_. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, 140 Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
_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.
_Juliet._ I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well, 150 I do beseech thee--
_Juliet._ By and by, I come.-- To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief; To-morrow will I send.
_Juliet._ A thousand times good night! [_Exit_.
_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. [_Retiring slowly._