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To households, both alike dignity, In fair Verona where we lay our scene From ancient grudge break to new mutiny Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
O, Capulet! I bite my thumb at thee!
Draw your sword Montague!
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overhtrows Doth with their death bury their parents strife
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
for never was there a story of more woe than that of Juliet and her Romeo
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