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Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain. |
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Delay this marriage for a month, a week, or, if you do not, make the bridal bed in that dim monument where Tybalt lies. |
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If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. |
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Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. |
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See what a scourge is laid upon your hate |
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I am hurt a plague o’ both houses! |
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By heaven, I love thee better than myself, for I come hither armed against myself. |
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… O, happy dagger, this is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die. In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. |
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