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Capulet

When well-apparelled April on the heel
Of limping Winter treads — even such delight
Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see                           

Nurse

Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit,
Wilt thou not, Jule?' and by my holidam,
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
To see now how a jest shall come about.
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he,
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'                       

Lady Capulet

Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse

Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh,
To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone;
A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly.
'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age,
Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'

Juliet

And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.                  

Nurse

What's this? What's this?

Juliet

                                         A rhyme I learned even now
Of one I danced withal.

Romeo

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
As a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear — 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

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