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“And trust me, love, in my eye so do you.” (III, v, 57-58)
“It was the nightingale, and not the lark... As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale.” (III, v, 2 ,55-56)
“Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church, Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.” (III, v, 112-115)
“O my love, my wife! Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath... Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace... Here's to my love!” (V, ii, 100-101, 121-123, 129)
“A cup, closed in my true love’s hand? Poison... drunk all, and left no friendly drop To help me after?.. O happy dagger, This is thy sheath. There rust and let me die.” (V, ii, 173-176, 182-183)
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