OH ROMEO. THOU ART ROMEO. WILL YOU MARRY ME. THOU ART ROMEO.
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Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of DenmarkIs by a forged process of my deathRankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,The serpent that did sting thy fathers lifeNow wears his crown.
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As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.
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He was a man, take him for all in all,I shall not look upon his like again.
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But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.
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Mine honor is my life; both grow in one.Take honor from me, and my life is done.
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What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
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Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
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Time shall unfold what pleated cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
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I would not put a thief in my mouth to steal my brains.
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His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.
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Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.
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Young mens love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
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She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.
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Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark. (Act 5, Scene 2)
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Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day.
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The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
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Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
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It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
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Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.O hateful error, Melancholys child,Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of menThe things that are not? O Error, soon concieved,Thou never comst unto a happy birth,But killst the mother that engendered thee.
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