My true love's passion; therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so [discovered].
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.
Romeo. What shall I swear by?