Did my heart love till now?
Forswear it, sight.
For I never saw true beauty till this night.
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.
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.
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.
What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun,
and kill the envious moon
who is already sick and pale with grief
that thou, her maid,
art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
and none but fools do wear it.
O cast it off!
Romeo. O Romeo!
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name.
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
and I'll no longer be a Capulet.
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague?
It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face...
...nor any other part belonging to a man.
O be some other name!
What's in a name?
That which we call a rose by
any other word would smell as sweet.
So Romeo would,
were he not Romeo called
retain that dear perfection
which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name
and for thy name, which is
no part of thee, take all myself.
<3 Love