'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, 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 call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title.
it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man.
There's something extremely dirty about this sentense... Well, then again, we're talking about Shakespeare here. The master of thinly veiled obsceneties...