She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a wingèd messenger of heaven Unto the white upturnèd wond'ring eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Ay me!
Romeo: 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.
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'll no longer be a Capulet
'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone; And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, Who lets it hop a little from his hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Romeo: It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, 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? 
Act 2 Scene 2 
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,Forgetting any other home but this.
Act 2 Scene 2 
Sweet, so would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast. Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest. Hence will I to my ghostly Friar’s close cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.
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