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True, I talk of dreams, which are children of an idle brain, born of nothing but worthless fantasy. Monologue from Mercutio to Romeo on the way to the Capulet party. My only love sprung from my only hate! To early seen unknown and known too late. Juliet.
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True, I talk of dreams, which are children of an idle brain, born of nothing but worthless fantasy
Monologue from Mercutio to Romeo on the way to the Capulet party
My only love sprung from my only hate! To early seen unknown and known too late.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny your father and refuse your name
But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night until it be tomorrow
Mr. Maher!!!!! Mr. Maher MR. MAHER!!!!