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 | 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 | |
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| Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. | |
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| How camest 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. | |
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| With love's light wings did i o'erperch these walls; For ston limits cannot hold love out, and what love cand do, that dares love attempt. therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me | |
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| If they do see thee, they will murder thee. | |
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| Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet, and i am proof against their enmity. | |
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