O, bid me leap, rather than marry Juliet: Paris,From off the battlements of yonder tower;Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurkWhere serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;Or shut me nightly in a charnel house,O’ercovered quite with dead men’s rattling bones,With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;Or bid me go into a new-made graveAnd hide me with a dead man in his shroud—Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble—And I will do it without fear or doubt,To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.
FRIAR LAWRENCE: Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope,Which craves as desperate an executionAs that is desperate which we would prevent.If, rather than to marry County Paris,Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,Then is it likely thou wilt undertakeA thing like death to chide away this shame,That copest with death himself to ’scape from it.An if thou darest, I’ll give thee remedy.
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BALTHASAR:Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.Her body sleeps in Capels’ monument,And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred’s vaultAnd presently took post to tell it you.O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
ROMEO:Is it e’en so? Then I defy you, stars!25Thou know’st my lodging. Get me ink and paper,And hire post horses. I will hence tonight.
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