Romeo + Juliet Page #5

TYBALT:

What dares the slave Come hither, To fleer and scorn

at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my

kin, To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

CAPULET:

Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

TYBALT:

Uncle, this is that villain Romeo, a Montague, our

foe.

CAPULET:

Young Romeo is it?

TYBALT:

'Tis he.

CAPULET:

Content thee, gentle cuz, content thee. Let him

alone; I would not for the wealth of all the town

Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be

patient, take no note of him

TYBALT:

I'll not endure him.

CAPULET:

He shall be endured

TYBALT:

Uncle, 'tis a shame.

CAPULET:

Go to! What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;

Make a mutiny among my guests?!

ROMEO:

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I

ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

ROMEO:

If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy

shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing

pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with

a tender kiss.

JULIET:

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which

mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have

hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm

is holy palmers' kiss.

ROMEO:

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

JULIET:

Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

ROMEO:

Well, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

JULIET:

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

ROMEO:

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus

from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

JULIET:

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO:

Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me

my sin again.

JULIET:

You kiss by the book.

NURSE:

Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Come lets

away.

ROMEO:

Is she a Capulet?

NURSE:

His name is Romeo, and he's a Montague; The only son

of your great enemy.

MERCUTIO:

Away, begone; the sport is at the best.

ROMEO:

Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

JULIET:

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen

unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love

it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.

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