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
By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name dear saint is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word
I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized: Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest in my counsel
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 tomorrow.
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.
And I'll stay to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
Good Morrow Father.
Within the infant rind of this weak flower poison hath residence and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, stays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed kings encamp them still In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; And where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up this plant.
With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No, I have forgot that name and that name's woe.
My heart's dear love is set on the fair daughter of Capulet.
God pardon son! Wast thou with Rosaline?
That's my good son; but where hast thou been then?
HOLY SAINT FRANCIS!
O let us hence! I stand on sudden haste
But come, young waverer, come, go with me; In one respect I'll thy assistance be: For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love.