Romeo & Juliet Page #4

such as would please.

Amore! Amore!

Amore...

Pride can stand a thousand trials

The strong will never fall

But watching stars without you

My soul cried

Heaving heart

Is full of pain

Oh, oh

The aching

Cos I'm kissing you

Oh

I'm kissing you

Madam, your mother calls!

Touch me deep

Pure and true

Will you now deny to dance?

A man, young lady. Such a man!

What!

Dares that slave come hither

to fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

Now, by the stock and honor of my kin,

to strike him dead I hold it not a sin!

Why, how now, kinsman!

Wherefore storm you so?

Uncle, this is that villain Romeo.

A Montague, our foe.

- Romeo is it?

- 'Tis he.

Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone.

I would not for the wealth of all this town

here in my house do him disparagement.

Therefore be patient, take no note of him.

Uncle, I'll not endure him.

He shall be endured.

Go to!

What, goodman boy? I say he shall!

Go to!

Uncle, 'tis a shame.

Make a mutiny among my guests?

Did my heart love till now?

Forswear it, sight.

For I never saw true beauty till this night.

Where are you now?

Where are you now?

Cos I'm kissing you

I'm kissing you now

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.

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.

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

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

Well, then, dear saint,

let lips do what hands do.

They pray, grant thou,

lest faith turn to despair.

Saints do not move,

though grant for prayers' sake.

Then move not,

while my prayer's effect I take.

Dave!

Thus from my lips,

by thine, my sin is purged.

Then have my lips the sin

that they have took?

Sin from my lips?

O trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my sin again.

You kiss by the book.

Juliet! Juliet! Oh!

Juliet?

Juliet!

Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

Come, let's away!

Is she a Capulet?

His name is Romeo, and he's a Montague,

the only son of your great enemy.

Away, be gone. The sport is at its best.

Ay, so I fear. The more is my unrest.

I am a pretty piece of flesh!

I am a pretty piece of flesh!

I am a pretty piece of flesh! I am!

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.

I will withdraw.

But this intrusion shall,

now seeming sweet,

convert to bitterest gall.

A pretty piece of flesh! I am!

A pretty piece of...

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