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Capulet's orchard. Once again we are at Juliet's balcony. |
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Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window |
| Juliet |
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: |
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It was the nightingale, and not the lark, |
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That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; |
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Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: |
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Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. |
| Romeo |
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, |
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No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks |
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Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: |
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Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day |
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Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. |
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I must be gone and live, or stay and die. |
| Juliet |
Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: |
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It is some meteor that the sun exhales, |
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To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, |
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And light thee on thy way to Mantua: |
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Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. |
| Romeo |
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; |
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I am content, so thou wilt have it so. |
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I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, |
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'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; |
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Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat |
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The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: |
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I have more care to stay than will to go: |
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Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. |
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How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day. |
| Juliet |
It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! |
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It is the lark that sings so out of tune, |
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Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. |
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Some say the lark makes sweet division; |
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This doth not so, for she divideth us: |
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Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, |
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O, now I would they had changed voices too! |
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Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, |
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Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, |
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O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. |
| Romeo |
More light and light; more dark and dark our woes! |
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Enter Nurse, to the chamber |
| Nurse |
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: |
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The day is broke; be wary, look about. |
| Juliet |
Then, window, let day in, and let life out. |
| Romeo |
Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. |
| Juliet |
Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! |
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I must hear from thee every day in the hour, |
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For in a minute there are many days: |
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O, by this count I shall be much in years |
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Ere I again behold my Romeo! |
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I will omit no opportunity |
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That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. |
| Juliet |
O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? |
| Romeo |
I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve |
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For sweet discourses in our time to come. |
| Juliet |
O God, I have an ill-divining soul! |
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Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, |
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As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: |
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Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. |
| Romeo |
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: |
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Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! |
| Juliet |
O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: |
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If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him. |
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That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; |
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For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, |
| Lady Capulet |
[Within] Ho, daughter! are you up? |
| Juliet |
Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? |
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Is she not down so late, or up so early? |
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What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? |
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