1 Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
2 For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
3 That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
4 Th'exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
5 This love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
6 I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again.
7 The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans yet ring in mine ancient ears.
8 I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me That's by me wounded.
9 Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
10 As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, save what thou must combine By holy marriage.
11 Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to have it prest With more of thine.
12 Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.
13 I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
14 Hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be: Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
15 Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud, Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name.
16 When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire; And these who, often drown'd, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars.
17 Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.
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