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Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?
It is an honour that I dream not of.
Thus then in brief, The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
A man, young lady! Lady, such a man As all the world – why, he's a man of wax.
What say you? Can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast.
'll look to like, if looking liking move. But no more deep will I indart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Why, how now, kinsman, wherefore storm you so?
Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night.
My lips are ready to smooth over with a tender kiss
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Then don’t move while I get my prayers answered. [He kisses her]
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