What o’clock tomorrow
Shall I send to thee?

ROMEO:
By 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.

ROMEO:
I would I were thy bird.

JULIET:
Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say good night till it be morrow. [_Exit._]

ROMEO:
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.

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