Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.

Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me! it is so very very late,

That we may call it early by and by.

Good night.

Exeunt.

SCENE V

JULIET'S CHAMBER, WITH WINDOW AND BALCONY OPENING
UPON CAPULET'S ORCHARD.

Enter ROMEO and JULIET.

JULIET.

Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day :
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree :
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO.

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale look, love, what envious streaks.
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east :
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

JULIET.

Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,

To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.

ROMEO.

Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.

I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay than will to go:
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is 't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

JULIET.

It is, it is hie hence, be gone, away!

It is the lark that sings so out of tune,

Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;

This doth not so, for she divideth us:

Some say the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

ROMEO.

More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

Enter NURSE, from the chamber.

Madam!

NURSE.