Now will he sit under a medlar tree

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.?
O Romeo, that she were! Oh, that she were
An open arse, and thou a poperin pear.
Romeo, good night. I?ll to my truckle bed

Posted By: Old Git on November 2nd 2011 at 11:18:54


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