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But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet.
A plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me!
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life.