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Ah, the last ditch efforts of the meek and mentally unstable, intertwined with variable degrees of intellectual misfortunes. Bringeth in said diminutive sack, as thou dost require the deletion of reproductive abilities, post hast. Bringeth thy scrotal guillotine!
yep ... definitely a "buffet only" type of broad.
"I pray you, tarry. Pause a day or twoBefore you hazard, for in choosing wrongI lose your company. Therefore forbear awhile.There’s something tells me—but it is not love—I would not lose you, and you know yourselfHate counsels not in such a quality.But lest you should not understand me well—And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought—I would detain you here some month or twoBefore you venture for me. I could teach youHow to choose right, but I am then forsworn.So will I never be. So may you miss me.But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin,That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,They have o'erlooked me and divided me.One half of me is yours, the other half yours—Mine own, I would say. But if mine, then yours,And so all yours."