Paris. Come you to make confession to this father?
Juliet. To answer that, I should confess to you.
Paris. Do not deny to him that you love me.
Juliet. I will confess to you that I love him.
Paris. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
Juliet. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Paris. Poor soul, thy face is much [abus'd] with tears.
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