Reading The Tragedy of Romeo and Iuliet — William Shakespeare

Direct reading · Original

Section 868

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Rom.

There's thy Gold,

Worse poyson to mens soules,

Doing more murther in this loathsome world,

Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell.

I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none,

Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh.

Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me

To Iuliets graue, for there must I vse thee.

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