For Ms. Brooker
Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets If ever you disturb our streets again Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. (I.i.93.97.102)
But saying o’er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. (I.ii.7)
Marry, that “marry” is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married? (I.iii.66)
And, to sink in it, should you burden love— Too great oppression for a tender thing. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boist’rous, and it pricks like thorn. (I.iv.23-27)
Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg’d. Juliet Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly purg’d! Give me my sin again (I.v.107-111)
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