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Ay me! Sad hours seem long
Good morrow cousin.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world.
Marry , that "marry" is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?
It is an honor I dream not of.
This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. Supper is done and we shall come too late.
I fear too early; for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars shall bitterly begin his fearful date.
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it sight! For I ne'er saw beauty till this night.
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
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