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Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold,
'tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.
Ay me!
She speaks.
Oh, speak again, bright angel.
O romeo, romeo,
Wherefore art thou, romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name.
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a capulet.
Shall I hear more,
Or shall I speak at this?
'tis but thy name that is my enemy.
Thou art thyself, though not a montague.
What is montague?
It is nor hand nor foot, nor arm nor face
Nor any other part belonging to a man.
O be some other name.
What's in a name?
That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So romeo would, were he not romeo called,
Retain that dear perfection
Which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.
I'll take thee at thy word.
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be romeo.