Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 

If I profane with my unworthiest hand 
This holy shrine, the gentle fine 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. 

Is she a Capulet? 
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. 

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. 
If that thy bent of love be honourable, 
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 
By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; 
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay 
And follow thee my lord throughout the world.