Reading The Tragedy of Romeo and Iuliet — William Shakespeare

Direct reading · Original

Section 633

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Cap.

Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender

Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd

In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not.

Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed,

Acquaint her here, of my Sonne Paris Loue,

And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next,

But soft, what day is this?

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