Mercutio. Come, we burn daylight, ho! Romeo. Nay, that's not so. Mercutio. I mean, sir, in delay. We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Don't burn out your biceps with 12-ounce curls.
Presently, men were running hither and thither in all ways.
I dig her batrachian lips / Her bulbous eyes and scaly hips
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