O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Romeo: Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops— Juliet: O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.