1 My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
2 I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
3 I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.
4 I will bite my thumb at them, which is disgrace to them if they bear it.
5 Bid a sick man in sadness make his will, A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill.
6 Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy I will bear the light.
7 Welcome, gentlemen, ladies that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you.
8 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.
9 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.
10 Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men I will be civil with the maids, I will cut off their heads.
11 True, and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.
12 Therefore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will; the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
13 She will not stay the siege of loving terms Nor bide th'encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O she's rich in beauty, only poor That when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
14 The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; And she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice.
15 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.
16 Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
17 The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
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