Paris: Happily met, my lady and my wife!
Juliet: That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Paris: That "may be" must be, love, on Thursday next.
Juliet: What must be shall be.
Friar: That's a certain text.
Paris: Come you to make confession to this father?
Juliet: To answer that, I should confess to you.
Paris: Do not deny to him that you love me.
Juliet: I will confess to you that I love him.
Paris: So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
Juliet: If I do so, it will be of more price, being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Paris: Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.
Juliet: The tears have got small victory by that, for it was bad enough before their spite.
Paris: Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.
Juliet: That is no slander, sir, which is truth; And what I spoke, I spoke it to my face.
Paris: Thy face is mine, and thou hast sland'red it.
2007-01-08
08:38:20
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4 answers
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Anonymous