1 At thy good heart's oppression.
2 Gregory, remember thy washing blow.
3 Enough of this; I pray thee hold thy peace.
4 Draw thy tool; here comes of the house of Montagues.
5 I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift.
6 As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast.
7 Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
8 I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.
9 Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
10 My life were better ended by their hate Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
11 My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of thy tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound.
12 Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee.
13 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.
14 O swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
15 With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
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 Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish: Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.
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