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She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, 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-puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air. Your line O ROMEO ROMEO wherefore art thou ROMEO 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. [Aside.] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Your line '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. O, be some other name. What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So ROMEOwould, were he not ROMEOcall'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. ROMEO doff thy name, And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptis'd; Henceforth I never will be ROMEO Your line What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? By a name 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. Your line My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not ROMEO and a Montague? Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Your line 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. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. Your line If they do see thee, they will murder thee.