_Jul._ Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "Ay," And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully; Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware, My true love's passion: therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered. _Rom._ Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-- _Jul._ O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. _Rom._ What shall I swear by? _Jul._ 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. _Rom._ If my heart's dear love-- _Jul._ Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee. I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, 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! _Rom._ O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? _Jul._ What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? _Rom._ The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. _Jul._ I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again. _Rom._ Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? _Jul._ But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have; My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. [_Nurse calls within._ I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true, Stay but a little, I will come again. [_Exit above._ _Rom._ O blessed, blessed night! I am afeared, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering sweet to be substantial. _Re-enter_ JULIET, _above_.