The Balcony Scene

The Balcony Scene 的简化版吉他和弦，作者为 Nino Rota

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    • Intro 1




    But 
    soft, 
    what 
    Verse 1

    light 

    through yonder 
    window breaks? 

    Ah, 
    it 
    is my 
    lady, 

    O, 
    it is 
    my love, 

    O, 
    that she 
    knew she were. 

    She speaks, 
    yet 
    she says 
    nothing. 

    What of 
    that? 

    Are I discourses? 

    I 
    will an
    swer it. 
    I am 
    too bold. 

    "'Tis 
    not to me she 
    speaks. 

    "'Two of 
    the fairest stars 

    in all the heavens, 

    "'having 
    some business 

    to entreat 
    her eyes 

    "'to 
    twinkle in their 

    spheres till they return. 

    "'See 
    how she leans 
    her cheek 

    upon her 
    hand. 

    "'Oh, 
    that I were a glove 
    upon 
    that hand, 

    "'that I might 
    touch that 
    cheek!' 



    O Romeo, 
    O 
    Romeo, 

    wherefore 
    art thou, 
    Romeo, 

    deny 
    thy father
    , 

    and 
    refuse thy name? 

    Or 
    if thou wilt not, 
    be 
    but 
    sworn my love, 

    an
    d I'll no longer 
    be 

    a Capulet. 

    Shall I hear more, or 

    shall I speak of this? 

    Tis but thy 
    name that is 

    my enemy. 

    Thou art thyself, 
    though not Montague. 

    What is 
    Montague? 

    It is nor hand, 
    nor 
    foot, 
    nor arm, 
    nor face, 

    nor 
    any other 
    part be
    longing to 
    a man. 

    O, 
    be some 
    other name! 

    What's 
    in a 
    name? 

    That 
    which you 
    call 
    a rose, 

    by any other 
    name 

    would smell as 
    sweet. 

    So Romeo 
    would, 

    were 
    he 
    not Romeo 
    called, 

    re
    tain that 
    dear perfection 

    which he 
    owes without 
    that title. 

    Romeo, 
    doff thy 
    name, 

    and 
    for that name 
    which is no 

    part of 
    thee, 

    take all 
    myself. 

    Romeo, I 
    take thee at thy 
    word. 

    Call me but 
    love, 

    and I'll be new 
    baptised. 

    Henceforth 
    I never will 

    be Romeo. 

    What man art 
    thou, 

    that thus 
    bescreen'd in night 


    so stumblest on my 
    counsel? 

    By 
    a name I know not 

    how to tell thee who 
    I 
    am. 

    My name, 
    dear saint, 

    is hateful 
    to myself, 

    because it is an 
    enemy 
    to thee. 

    Had 
    I written, I 
    would tear the 
    word. 

    My 
    ears have not yet 
    drunk 

    a 
    hundred 
    words 

    Of 
    that tongue's utterance, 

    yet I 
    know the sound. 

    Art thou not Romeo, 
    and a Montague? 

    Neither, 
    fair 
    maid
    , if either 

    thee dislike. 

    How cam'st 
    thou hither? 


    Tell me, and wherefore? 

    The orchard 
    -walls are high 

    and hard to 
    climb, 

    And 
    the place death, 

    considering 
    who thou art, 

    If any of my 
    kinsmen find 
    thee here. 

    With 
    love's light 
    wings 

    did I aperch 
    these walls, 

    For stony limits 
    cannot hold 
    love out, 


    And what love 
    can do, 

    that 
    dares love attempt. 

    Therefore 
    thy 
    kinsmen are no 
    stop 
    to me. 

    If 
    they do see 
    thee, 

    they will murder 
    thee. 

    I have knights 
    cloaked 

    to hide me from 
    their eyes. 

    But thou love 
    me. 

    Let 
    them find me here. 

    My life were 
    better 

    ended by their 
    hate 

    than death 
    prorogued wanting 

    of 
    thy love. 

    Dost thou love 
    me? 

    I 
    know thou wilt say 
    I, 

    and I 
    will take thy word. 

    Yet, 
    if thou 
    swear'st, 


    thou may'st prove false. 

    At 
    lovers' perjuries they 
    say Jove laughs. 

    O 
    gentle Romeo, 
    if 
    thou dost 
    love, 

    pronounce it 
    faithfully. 

    Or 
    if thou think'st I 
    am too quickly won, 


    I'll frown 
    and be perverse, 

    and say thee may, 
    so thou wilt woo. 

    But 
    else, 
    not 
    for the world. 

    In 
    truth, fair 
    Montague, 
    I 
    am too fond. 

    And 
    therefore thou mayst 

    think my haviour 
    light. 

    But 
    trust me, 
    gentlemen, 

    I'll 
    prove more 
    true 

    than those that 

    have more cunning to be 
    strange. 

    I 
    should have been more 
    strange, 

    I must confess. 

    But that thou 
    overheard'st ere was 

    where my true love's 
    passion. 

    There
    fore, 
    pardon 
    me, 

    and 
    not impute this 
    yielding to light love, 


    Which the dark night 
    hath 
    so discovered. 

    Lady, 
    by yonder 
    blessed moon 

    I swear... 

    No, swear not by the 
    moon. 

    Think 
    constant moon, 

    that monthly 
    changes in her 
    circled orb, 


    Lest that 
    thy love 
    prove likewise 

    variable. 

    What shall I 
    swear by? 

    Do 
    not swear at all. 

    Or if thou wilt, 
    swear 
    by thy 
    gracious self, 


    which is the god 
    of my idolatry, 

    and 
    I'll believe thee. 

    If my 
    heart's dear love that... 

    I swear I... 

    Oh, Juliet! 

    Sweet 
    good night, 

    this 
    bud of 
    love 

    by summer's 
    ripening breath 

    may 
    prove a beauteous flower 

    when next we 
    meet. 

    Good night, 
    good 
    night, 

    as sweet repose 

    and rest come to 
    thy heart 

    as that 
    within 
    my breast. 

    O, 
    would thou leave me 
    so unsatisfied? 

    What 
    satisfaction canst 

    thou have to -night? 

    The exchange 
    of thy last faithful 

    vow for mine. 

    I 
    gave thee mine 

    before 
    thou didst request 
    it, 

    and yet 
    I would it were to 
    give 

    again. 

    Wouldst thou withdraw 
    it? 

    But to 
    be 
    frank, 

    an
    d give it thee 
    again, 

    and 
    yet 
    I 
    wish but for 
    the thing I have. 

    My 
    bounty is 
    as boundless as 
    the sea, 

    my love 
    as deep, 

    the more I 
    give to thee, the more 

    I have. 

    For both are 
    infinite. 

    A 
    non -good nurse? 

    Sweet 
    Montague, 
    be 
    true. 

    Madam! 

    Stay 
    but 
    a 
    little. 
    I will come 
    again. 

    Madam? 
    Lady 
    Juliet! 

    Oh, 
    blessed, 
    blessed night. 

    Oh, 
    I am afeard 
    be
    ing in night. 

    Oh, 
    this is but 
    a 
    dream. 

    Too 
    flat
    tering sweet 

    to be 
    substan
    tial. 

    Three 
    words, 
    dear Romeo, 

    and 
    good 
    -night, indeed. 

    If that thy 
    bent of love be honour
    able, 

    thy 
    purpose marriage, 

    send me word 
    to -morrow by 

    one that I'll procure 
    to come to thee, 

    where 
    and what 
    time 

    thou wilt per
    form the rite, 

    and all my 
    forges at thy foot 
    I'll lay, 


    and follow 
    thee, 
    my lord, 

    throughout the world. 

    Madam? 
    I 
    come an
    d on. 

    But if thou 
    mean'st not well, 

    I 
    do beseech 
    thee 
    to cease 

    thy suit 

    and leave me 
    to my grief. 

    Tomorrow will 
    I send? 

    O, so 
    thrive my 
    soul. 

    A thousand times 
    good night. 

    Romeo! 

    At 
    what o tomorrow 

    shall I send to thee? 

    At the hour of 
    nine. 

    I will not 
    fail. 

    O, tis twenty 
    years till then. 

    Romeo! 
    I have 
    forgot 

    why did call thee 
    back. 

    Let me stand 
    here 
    till I remember 
    it. 

    I shall forget 
    to have 
    thee still stand 

    there remembering 
    how I love thy company. 

    And I'll 
    still 
    stay to 
    have 
    thee still forget, 

    for
    getting any oth

    er home but 
    this. 

    Good night, 
    good night. 

    Parting 
    is such 
    sweet sorrow, 

    that 
    I shall 
    say good night 
    till 
    it be morrow. 

    You 

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