[Romeo]
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.
[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',
Holy palmers' kiss.
[Romeo]
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
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]
Move not while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
[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.
