abstract
| - O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?Forsake thy father and naysay thy name;Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my loveAnd 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 limbBelonging to a man. O be some other name!What's in a name? That which we call a roseBy any other word would smell as sweet;So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,Keep that dear flawlessness which he owesWithout that sterling. Romeo, doff thy name,and for thy name, which is no bit of thee,Take all myself.
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