Romeo, grand sérieux, to importune

Guitar and hat in hand, beside the gate

With Juliet, in the usual debate

Of love, beneath a bored but courteous moon;

The conversation failing, strikes some tune

Banal, and out of pity for their fate

Behind the wall I have some servant wait,

Stab, and the lady sinks into a swoon.

Blood looks effective on the moonlit ground—

The hero smiles; in my best mode oblique

Rolls toward the moon a frenzied eye profound,

(No need of “Love forever?”—“Love next week?”)

While female readers all in tears are drowned:—

“The perfect climax all true lovers seek!”