Juliet: 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face. O, be some other name Belonging to a man What's in a name? That which we call a rose.
Juliet: By any other word 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 thy name which is no part of thee, take all myself
Romeo: I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Juliet: What man art thou that, thus be screened in night. So stumble nest on my counsel.
Romeo: By a name. I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself. Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Juliet: My ears have yet not drunk a hundred word Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
Juliet: How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place of death, considering who thou art, if any kinsmen find thee here.
Romeo: Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike
Romeo: With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
Juliet: If they do see thee, they will murder thee