Romeo and Juliet

by William Shakespeare

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet;

when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit.