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Capulet:
He shall be endur’d.
What, goodman boy! I say he shall, go to;
Am I the master here, or you? Go to.
You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul,
You’ll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop, you’ll be the man!
Tybalt:
Why, uncle, ’tis a shame.
Capulet:
Go to, go to!
You are a saucy boy. Is’t so, indeed?
This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what.
You must contrary me! Marry, ’tis time.
Well said, my hearts!—You are a princox; go:
Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame!
I’ll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts.
Tybalt:
Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.
(Exit.)
Romeo:
(To Juliet.) 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:
O, 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 thine my sin is purg’d.
(Kissing her.)
Juliet:
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Romeo:
Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d!
Give me my sin again.
Juliet:
You kiss by the book.
Nurse:
Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Romeo:
What is her mother?
Nurse:
Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous.
I nurs’d her daughter that you talk’d withal.
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
Shall have the chinks.
Romeo:
Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt.
Benvolio:
Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.
Romeo:
Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.