Page 3171 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

ROMEO

It is my soul that calls upon my name.
How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night, [165]
Like softest music to attending cars.

JULIET

Romeo.

ROMEO

My nyas.

JULIET

What o’clock tomorrow
Shall I send to thee?

ROMEO

By the hour of nine.

JULIET

I will not fail. ’Tis twenty year till then.
I have forgot why I did call thee back. [170]

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. [175]

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 his hand
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silken thread plucks it back again, [180]
So loving-jealous of his liberty.