Datasets:
DioLiu
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Test3

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ROMEO:
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing.
MERCUTIO:
True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
BENVOLIO:
This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
ROMEO:
I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels and expire the term
Of a despised life closed in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
BENVOLIO:
Strike, drum.
First Servant:
Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He
shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!
Second Servant:
When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.
First Servant:
Away with the joint-stools, remove the
court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save
me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let
the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
Antony, and Potpan!
Second Servant:
Ay, boy, ready.
First Servant:
You are looked for and called for, asked for and
sought for, in the great chamber.
Second Servant:
We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
CAPULET:
Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?
Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
That I have worn a visor and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.
More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is't now since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?
Second Capulet:
By'r lady, thirty years.
CAPULET:
What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
Second Capulet:
'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;
His son is thirty.
CAPULET:
Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago.
ROMEO:
Servant:
I know not, sir.
ROMEO: