When We Are Born We

O! She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiop's Ear; Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. - Romeo -

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.

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

I'll Note You In My Book Of Memory.

The Ides Of March Are Come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; But Not Gone.