This bingo card has a free space and 24 words: Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,, If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace., If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss., But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange., I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date, I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall., What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet;, Out of her favour, where I am in love., I would not for the wealth of all the town Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patient, take no note of him:, A plague o' both your houses!, I do protest, I never injured thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:, With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out,, Is Rosaline, who you did love so dear, so soon forgotten? Young men’s love then lies, Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes., Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;, Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return., Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine., Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?, My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:, Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;' For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.', From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms,, O, I am fortune's fool!, He jests at scars that never felt a wound., O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? and Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget..
Red Cycle | Red Cycle | LUKE CHAPTER 4 | I Believe in Jesus Christ | Bible Drill Bingo
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