In the meanwhile the dance was ended, and Romeo had been able to approach Juliet. In his rôle of a pilgrim he carried on with her a half-jesting conversation which barely veiled the deep devotion he was already beginning to feel; and, according to the customs of those days, he was even permitted to salute the lady with a courteous kiss. Their conversation was interrupted by Juliet’s nurse, who came to summon Juliet to her mother, and then Romeo learnt for the first time that the young girl who had so enchanted him was the daughter of the house, a Capulet, the child of his foe. And a few minutes later, Juliet, also making eager inquiry about the young guest in the guise of a pilgrim, heard that his name was Romeo, a Montague, the only son of the great enemy of her father’s house. Mercutio When the ball was over, Romeo’s friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, looked for him to return with them, but Romeo was nowhere to be found. Unable to leave the neighbourhood of the lady who had so suddenly taken possession of his heart, Romeo had scaled the wall of Capulet’s orchard. As he drew near the house, a window above opened, and Juliet herself stepped out on to a balcony. Romeo was hidden among the shadows of the trees, but the silver rays of a summer moon shone full on Juliet, and lighted up her sweet young face and her ball-dress of shimmering white satin. Like Romeo, Juliet was sad at heart, for all her thoughts were running on the gallant young stranger, and it grieved her to remember that he was the son of her father’s enemy. Believing herself to be alone, Juliet spoke her meditations aloud, and in the silence of the night they were clearly heard by the unseen listener below. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” she sighed. “Deny thy father, and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, only swear to love me, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.” “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” said Romeo to himself, enraptured at hearing such words. “It is only thy name that is my enemy,” continued Juliet. “What’s ‘Montague’? It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.... Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee, take all myself!” “I take thee at thy word!” cried Romeo, unable to keep silence any longer. “Call me but love, and I will be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo!”