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Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
Speak plainly, make your meaning clear, my son. A jumbled confession can only receive a jumbled absolution.


Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine,
And all combined, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage. When and where and how
We met, we wooed and made exchange of vow,
I’ll tell thee as we pass, but this I pray:
That thou consent to marry us today.
I love rich Capulet’s daughter. I love her, and she loves me. We’re bound to each other in every possible way, except we need you to marry us. I’ll tell you more later about when and where we met, how we fell in love, and how we exchanged promises, but now I’m begging you: please, agree to marry us today.




Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? Young men’s love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste
To season love that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears.
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.
If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline.
And art thou changed? Pronounce this sentence then:
Women may fall when there’s no strength in men.
Holy Saint Francis, this is a drastic change! Have you given up so quickly on Rosaline, whom you loved so much? Then young men love with their eyes, not with their hearts. Jesus and Mary, how many tears did you cry for Rosaline? How many salty tear-drops did you waste salting a love you never tasted? The sun hasn’t yet melted away the fog you made with all your sighs. The groans you used to make are still ringing in my old ears. There’s still a stain on your cheek from an old tear that hasn’t been washed off yet. If you were ever yourself, and this sadness was yours, you and your sadness were all for Rosaline. And now you’ve changed? Then repeat this after me: you can’t expect women to be faithful when men are so unreliable.

Thou chid’st me oft for loving Rosaline.
You scolded me often for loving Rosaline.

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
I scolded you for obsessing about her, not for loving her, my student.

And badest me bury love.
And you told me to bury my love.

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Romeo and Juliet (No Fear Shakespeare)