| Two households, both alike in dignity
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| In fair Verona, where we lay our scene
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| From ancient grudge break to new mutiny
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| Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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| From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
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| A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
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| Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
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| Do with their death bury their parents' strife
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| The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love
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| And the continuance of their parents' rage
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| Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove
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| Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
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| The which if you with patient ears attend
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| What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend
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| I am a child of a
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| Money hungry, prideful country
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| Grass is green and it’s always sunny
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| Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
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| I’m finding it hard to leave
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| I am a child of a
|
| Money hungry, prideful country
|
| Grass is green and it’s always sunny
|
| Hands so bloody, tastes like honey
|
| I’m finding it hard to leave |