𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱; 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘺𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘐𝘐, 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘐𝘐; 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

When he knew the coat was clear, Corbyn emerged from the bushes with a glare.

"It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut." He said, about Zach. He spotted me appear from inside and onto the balcony above, "But wait, what's that light in the window over there? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."

"Virginity makes her look sick and green. Only fools hold on to their virginity. Let it go. Oh, there's my lady! Oh, it is my love. Oh, I wish she knew how much I love her." He continued with a dreamy sigh, "She's talking, but she's not saying anything. So what? Her eyes are saying something. I will answer them. I am too bold. She's not talking to me."

"Look how she leans her hand on her cheek. Oh, I wish I was the glove on that hand so that I could touch that cheek." Corbyn smiled, "She speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel. You are as glorious as an angel tonight."

𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘷.

"Oh, Corbyn, Corbyn, why do you have to be Corbyn? Forget about your father and change your name. Or else, if you won't change your name, just swear you love me and I'll stop being a Capulet." I sighed. 

"It's only your name that's my enemy. You'd still be yourself even if you stopped being a Montague. What's a Montague anyway? It isn't a hand, a foot, an arm, a face, or any other part of a man. Oh, be some other name! What does a name mean?" I continued, "Trade in your name-which really has nothing to do with you- and take all of me in exchange."

"I trust your words. Just call me your love, and I will take a new name. From now on I will never be Corbyn again." A voice said.

"Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?" I replied, surprised. 

"I don't know how to tell you who I am by telling you a name. I hate my name, dear saint, because my name is your enemy. If I had it written down, I would tear up the paper." I recognised the voice.

"I haven't heard you say a hundred words yet, but I recognize the sound of your voice. Aren't you Corbyn? And aren't you a Montague?" I couldn't help but let a smile appear on my lips. 

"I am neither of those things if you dislike them," Corbyn told me.

"Tell me, how did you get in here? And why did you come? The orchard walls are high, and it's hard to climb over them. If any of my relatives find you here they'll kill you because of who you are." I frowned. 

"I flew over these walls with the light wings of love. Stone walls can't keep love out." Corbyn called, "Whatever a man in love can possibly do, his love will make him try to do it. Therefore your relatives are no obstacle."

"If they see you, they'll murder you," I told him again.

"Alas, one angry look from you would be worse than twenty of your relatives with swords. Just look at me kindly, and I'm invincible against their hatred." He emerged from the darkness and looked up at me with a smile.

"I'd give anything to keep them from seeing you here," I said.

"The darkness will hide me from them. And if you don't love me, let them find me here. I'd rather they killed me than have to live without your love." Corbyn sighed. 

"Who told you how to get here below my bedroom?" I asked him.

"Love showed me the way- the same thing that made me look for you in the first place. Love told me what to do, and I let love borrow my eyes. I'm not a sailor, but if you were across the farthest sea, I would risk everything to gain you." Corbyn nodded.

"You can't see my face because it's dark out. Otherwise, you'd see me blushing about the things you've heard me say tonight." I frowned, "Do you love me? I know you'll say 'yes,' and I'll believe you. But if you swear you love me, you might turn out to be lying. Oh Corbyn, if you really love me, say it truly. Or if you think it's too easy and quick to win my heart."

"Lady, I swear by the sacred moon above, the moon that paints the tops of fruit trees with silver-" Corbyn said.

"Don't swear by the moon. The moon is always changing. Every month its position in the sky shifts. I don't want you to turn out to be that inconsistent too." I interrupted.

"What should I swear by?" Corbyn asked. 

"Don't swear at all. But if you have to swear, swear by your wonderful self, which is the god I worship like an idol, and then I'll believe you." I smiled.

"If my heart's dear love-" Corbyn started.

"Well, don't swear. Although you bring me joy, I can't take joy in this exchange of promises tonight. It's too crazy. We haven't done enough thinking. It's too sudden." I stopped him again, "I hope you enjoy the same sweet peace and rest I feel in my heart." I turned to leave.

"Oh, are you going to leave me so unsatisfied?" He frowned.

"What satisfaction could you possibly have tonight?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"I would be satisfied if we made each other true promises of love." Corbyn smirked.

"I pledged my love to you before you asked me to. Yet I wish I could take that promise back, so I had it to give again." I told him.

"You would take it back? Why would you do that, my love?" He frowned again.

"Only to be generous and give it to you once more." I grinned. I heard nurse call me, and I turned around, startled. "I hear a noise inside. Dear love, goodbye- just a minute, good Nurse." I turned to Corbyn, "Sweet Montague, be true. Stay here for a moment. I'll come back."

I turned to leave again, hearing his calling words.

"Oh, blessed, blessed night! Because it's dark out, I'm afraid all this is just a dream, too sweet to be real."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦.
𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦:
"𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺, 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦- 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴!"