Juliet:
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Forsake thy father and naysay thy name;
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Romeo:
[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Juliet:
'Tis but thy name that is my fiendish foe:
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,
Nor arm nor nebb, nor any other limb
Belonging to a man. O be some other name!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Keep that dear flawlessness which he owes
Without that sterling. Romeo, doff thy name,
and for thy name, which is no bit of thee,
Take all myself.