Act 2 Scene 2

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  • He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
  • Oh, that i were a glove upon that hand That i might touch that cheek!
  • Ay me!
  • Call me but love. Henceforth i never will be Romeo.
  • O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
  • Th' exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.
  • Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say “ay,”
  • So thrive my soul—
  • If that thy bent of love be honorable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow
  • Hence will I to my ghostly friar’s close cell, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.
  • Parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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