I know not how to tell thee who I am.  
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,  
Because it is an enemy to thee;  
Had I it written, I would tear the word.  
_Juliet._ My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words  
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound.--  
Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? 
_Romeo._ Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.  
_Juliet._ How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?  
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,  
And the place death, considering who thou art,  
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.  
_Romeo._ With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls,  
For stony limits cannot hold love out,  
And what love can do that dares love attempt;  
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.  
_Juliet._ If they do see thee, they will murther thee.  
_Romeo._ Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye  
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,  
And I am proof against their enmity.  
_Juliet._ I would not for the world they saw thee here.  
_Romeo._ I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes;  
And but thou love me, let them find me here.  
My life were better ended by their hate  
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.  
_Juliet._ By whose direction found'st thou out this place?  
_Romeo._ By love, that first did prompt me to inquire;  
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.  
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far  
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,  
I would adventure for such merchandise.  
_Juliet._ 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,  

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