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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:

 I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, 
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;

 Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? 
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
 Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, I thought my mother and my brother York With reverend fathers and well learned bishops. From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Madam,--and you, my mother,--will you go 
  • Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
 as your daughter may conceive:--friend, look to't. Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?