But WORD! What light through yonder WORD breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the WORD!
Arise, fair sun, and WORD the envious moon,
Who is already sick and WORD with grief
That thou her WORD art far more fair than she.
Be not her WORD, since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do WORD it. Cast it off.
It is my lady; O, it is my WORD!
O that she knew she were!
She WORD, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her WORD discourses; I will answer it.
I am too WORD; `tis not to me she WORD.
Two of the fairest stars in all the WORD,
Having some business, do entreat her WORD
To WORD in their WORD till they return.
What if her WORD were there, they in her head?
The WORD of her cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; her WORD in WORD
Would through the airy WORD stream so bright
That WORD would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her WORD!
O that I were a glove upon that WORD,
That I might touch that cheek!