ROMEO.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, —
JULIET.
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
ROMEO.
What shall I swear by?
JULIET.
Do not swear at all;
Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
ROMEO.
If my heart's dear love, —
JULIET.
Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say It lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
ROMEO.
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
JULIET.
What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
ROMEO.
The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
