Juliet: A thousand times good night.
Romeo: A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,
but love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
Juliet: Hist! Romeo, hist!—O! for a falconer’s voice,
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud,
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of Romeo's name.
Romeo: It is my soul that calls upon my name.
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softest music to attending ears!