The passage we mean is Juliet’s apology for her maiden boldness.

     Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face;
     Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
     For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
     Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
     What I have spoke—­but farewell compliment: 
     Dost thou love me?  I know thou wilt say, aye,
     And I will take thee at thy word—­Yet if thou swear’st,
     Thou may’st prove false; at lovers’ perjuries
     They say Jove laughs.  Oh gentle Romeo,
     If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
     Or if thou think I am too quickly won,
     I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,
     So thou wilt woo:  but else not for the world. 
     In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
     And therefore thou may’st think my ’haviour light;
     But trust me, gentleman, 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 over-heard’st, ere I was ware,
     My true love’s passion; therefore pardon me,
     And not impute this yielding to light love,
     Which the dark night hath so discovered.

In this and all the rest her heart, fluttering between pleasure, hope, and fear, seems to have dictated to her tongue, and ’calls true love spoken simple modesty’.  Of the same sort, but bolder in virgin innocence, is her soliloquy after her marriage with Romeo.

     Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
     Towards Phoebus’ mansion; such a wagoner
     As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
     And bring in cloudy night immediately. 
     Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night;
     That run-aways’ eyes may wink; and Romeo
     Leap to these arms, untalked of, and unseen!—–­
     Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
     By their own beauties:  or if love be blind,
     It best agrees with night.—­Come, civil night,
     Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
     And learn me how to lose a winning match,
     Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: 
     Hood my unmann’d blood bating in my cheeks,
     With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
     Thinks true love acted, simple modesty. 
     Come night!—­Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night;
     For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
     Whiter than new snow on a raven’s back.—–­
     Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow’d night,
     Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,
     Take him and cut him out in little stars,
     And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
     That all the world shall be in love with night,
     And pay no worship to the garish sun.—–­
     O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
     But not possess’d it; and though I am sold,
     Not yet enjoy’d:  so tedious is this day,
     As is the night before some festival
     To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
     And may not wear them.