JULIET.
Romeo!
ROMEO.
My dear?
JULIET.
At what o'clock to-morrow
Shall I send to thee?
ROMEO.
At the hour of nine.
JULIET.
I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back.
ROMEO.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.
JULIET.
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company.
ROMEO.
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.
JULIET.
'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
And yet no farther than a wanton's bird;
That lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
