1 Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
2 Marry, that I think be young Petruchio.
3 O teach me how I should forget to think.
4 Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
5 I think she will be rul'd In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
6 Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the County.
7 Well, think of marriage now: younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers.
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 Go thither and with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
10 My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
11 They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
12 In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.'
13 Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were, As living here and you no use of him.'