Let Him Smell His Way To Dover!

O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

O, This Life Is Nobler Than Attending For A Check, Richer Than Doing Nothing For A Robe, Prouder Than Rustling In Unpaid-for Silk: Such Pain The Cap Of Him That Makes Him Fine Yet Keeps His Book Uncrossed.

An Angel; Or, If Not, An Earthly Paragon.

O Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? Deny Thy Father Refuse Thy Name, Thou Art Thyself Thou Not A Montegue, What Is Montegue? Tis Nor Hand Nor Foot Nor Any Other Part Belonging To A Man What Is 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 Such Dear Perfection To Which He Owes Without That Title, Romeo, Doth Thy Name! And For That Name Which Is No Part Of Thee, Take All Thyself.

I Have More Care To Stay Than Will To Go.