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 winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white - upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze upon him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing 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 will 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 a Montague? It's 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, where he not Romeo call'd
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;
And for thy name; which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
Romeo: She speaks!
O speak again, bright angel - for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white - upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze upon him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing 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 will 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 a Montague? It's 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, where he not Romeo call'd
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;
And for thy name; which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
