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42 ROMEO AND JULIET. 

As glorious to this niglit, being o'er my head, 

As is a winged messenger of heaven 

Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes 

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, 

When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds 

And sails upon the bosom of the air. 

Juliet. Komeo, Komeo ! wherefore art thou Komeo ? 

Deny thy father and refuse thy name ; 

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. 

And I'll no longer be a Capulet. 

Fiomeo. [Aside'] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at 

this? 
Juliet. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy ; 

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. 

What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot, 
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 
.Belonging to a man. 0, be some other name ! 
What's in a name ? that which we call a rose 
By any other name would smell as sweet ; 
So Komeo would, were he not Komeo call'd, 
Ketain that dear perfection which he owes 
Without that title. —Komeo, doff thy name, 
And for that name, which is no part of thee, 
Take all myself. 

Itomeo. I take thee at thy word : 

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; 
Henceforth I never will be Komeo. 




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