1 But if you do, sir, am for you.
2 Now I'll tell you without asking.
3 Perhaps you have learned it without book.
4 I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd.
5 Indeed I should have ask'd you that before.
6 Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o the collar.
7 So please you step aside; I'll know his grievance or be much denied.
8 No sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.
9 Of honourable reckoning are you both, And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long.'
10 If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
11 My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine.
12 This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love, and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
13 Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; And in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives uncharm'd.
14 For this time all the rest depart away: You, Capulet, shall go along with me, And Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our farther pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgement-place.
15 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.
16 At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house.
17 The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
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