O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her pure blind son and heir, Young Cupid, he that shot so true . . .

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!

She speaks. O, Speak again, bright angel . . .

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.

Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast

In scene 4, Mercutio Benvolio both still think Romeo loves Rosaline, but we know that he has switched his love to Juliet! “Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead . . . run through the ear with a love song . . .

These violent delights have violent ends . . . .

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