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Friar Laurence's cell in the church. It has been tidied up a bit. The books that were scattered about have been put away. |
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Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO |
| Friar Lawrence |
So smile the heavens upon this holy act, |
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That after hours with sorrow chide us not! |
| Romeo |
Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, |
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It cannot countervail the exchange of joy |
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That one short minute gives me in her sight: |
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Do thou but close our hands with holy words, |
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Then love-devouring death do what he dare; |
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It is enough I may but call her mine. |
| Friar Lawrence |
These violent delights have violent ends |
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And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, |
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Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey |
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Is loathsome in his own deliciousness |
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And in the taste confounds the appetite: |
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Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; |
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Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. |
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Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot |
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Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: |
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A lover may bestride the gossamer |
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That idles in the wanton summer air, |
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And yet not fall; so light is vanity. |
| Juliet |
Good even to my ghostly confessor. |
| Friar Lawrence |
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. |
| Juliet |
As much to him, else is his thanks too much. |
| Romeo |
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy |
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Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more |
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To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath |
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This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue |
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Unfold the imagined happiness that both |
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Receive in either by this dear encounter. |
| Juliet |
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, |
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Brags of his substance, not of ornament: |
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They are but beggars that can count their worth; |
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But my true love is grown to such excess |
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I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. |
| Friar Lawrence |
Come, come with me, and we will make short work; |
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For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone |
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Till holy church incorporate two in one. |
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