1 I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.
2 As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast.
3 He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion.
4 Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know.
5 But as I said, On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
6 Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, towards school with heavy looks.
7 Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
8 But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.'
9 I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise.
10 When, and where, and how We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us today.
11 And yet I wish but for the thing I have; My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
12 This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love, and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
13 I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds, Who nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn.
14 At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house.
15 Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate.
16 True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
17 Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new beloved anywhere.
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