I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hatefull to myself Because it is an enemy to thee. Had it written, I would tear the word
My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound art thou not Romeo, and a Montague
How camest thou hither,tell me, and wherefore?
Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike
With love's light wingsdid I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold out love out, and what love can do, that dares love attempt.
If they do see thee they will murder thee.
I would not for the world they saw thee here.
Alack, there lies more peril in thyne eye Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, And I am proof aginst their enmity.
I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, And but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate then death poroguéd, wanting of thy love.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place.
By love, that first did prompt me to inquire. He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot. Yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandice.