A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married" It is an honor that I dream not of
Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
God defend the right.
He receives comfort like cold porridge.