1 An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
2 Enough of this; I pray thee hold thy peace.
3 Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
4 If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
5 I would not for the world they saw thee here.
6 My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
7 That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall.
8 Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
9 Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee.
10 Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo.
11 By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee.
12 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.
13 God mark thee to his grace Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd: And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
14 Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, A bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth.
15 Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest Up to the ears.
16 I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
17 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.
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