It is my soul that calls upon my name.How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,Like softest music to attending
Hist, Romeo, hist! O, for a falc'ner's voiceo lure this tassel-gentle back again!Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,With repetition of my 'Romeo.'
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I will not fail; 'tis twenty year till then.I have forgot why I did call thee back.
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Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,That I shall say good night till it be morrow.He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.\ am no pilot, yet wert thou as farAs that vast shore washed with the farthest sea,I would adventure for such merchandise.
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.Hence will I to my ghostly Friar’s close cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheekFor that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain denyWhat I have spoke. But farewell, compliment.Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuriesThey say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo
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