Damn you, Shakespeare!

(He said)

    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, 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; 

(She said [scared and doubtful])

        ROMEO
 With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
 For stony limits cannot hold love out,

(They agreed for now.)

        JULIET
  Sweet, so would I:
 Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
 Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
 That I shall say good night till it be morrow.