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Slajd: 1
This, by his voice, should be a Montague.-(to his PAGE) Fetch me my rapier, boy.-What, dares the slaveCome hither, covered with an antic face,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.Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,A villain that is hither come in spiteTo scorn at our solemnity this night.'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so?Young Romeo is it?
Slajd: 2
(taking JULIET'S hand) If! profane with my unworthiest handThis holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready standTo smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
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.Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Slajd: 3
0, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.Then move not, while my prayer's effect IThus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.take.*Kisses her*
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

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