Juliet. O thy creature most perfect made,
shadowed in light, of some love displayed,
I ask thee, of simple whim, a kiss or smile
for spark of warmth, thy tender while.

I call thee thus, for what does that separate
us but some darkness, some family hate,
Nay, we tender shoots, deny what is
for that history's feud. I ask thee thus for that kiss.

See, what blood is on these hands, nay, it is none,
for sword or spear I denied, my betrayal done,
for thee is as that womb that bore and born me.
Alas I cry, Romeo and Juliet, now forever be.