what light through yonder window breaks?
and kill the envious moon,
That thou her maid art far
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off
It is my lady, O, it is my Pug! - Wait, what?
Doth no party like a Renaissance Pug party, ’cause a Renaissance Pug party dothn’t cease!
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