21 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
21 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
// Test simple text.
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---
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#set page(width: 250pt, height: 120pt)
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But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet
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is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and
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pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid,
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since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools
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do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she
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were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will
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answer it.
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I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the
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heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres
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till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness
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of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in
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heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and
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think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I
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were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!
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