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| Enter FRIAR LAWRENCE and
ROMEO |
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| FRIAR LAWRENCE and
ROMEO enter. |
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| | FRIAR LAWRENCE |
| |
So smile the heavens upon this holy act |
| |
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not. |
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| FRIAR LAWRENCE |
|
May the heavens be happy with this holy act of marriage, so
nothing unfortunate happens later to make us regret it. |
|
| | ROMEO |
| |
Amen, amen. But come what sorrow can, |
| |
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy |
| 5 |
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. |
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| ROMEO |
|
Amen, amen. But whatever misfortunes occur, they can't
ruin the joy I feel with one look at her. All you have to do is join
our hands with holy words, then love-destroying death can do
whatever it pleases. It's enough for me if I can call her
mine. |
|
| | FRIAR LAWRENCE |
| |
These violent delights have violent ends |
| 10 |
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. |
| 15 |
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. |
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| FRIAR LAWRENCE |
|
These sudden joys have sudden endings. They burn up in victory
like fire and gunpowder. When they meet, as in a kiss, they explode.
Too much honey is delicious, but it makes you sick to your stomach.
Therefore, love each other in moderation. That is the key to
long-lasting love. Too fast is as bad as too slow. |
|
| Enter JULIET, somewhat fast, and
embraceth ROMEO |
|
| JULIET enters in a rush and embraces
ROMEO. |
|
| |
Here comes the lady. Oh, so light a foot |
| |
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint. |
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A lover may bestride the gossamers |
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That idles in the wanton summer air, |
| 20 |
And yet not fall. So light is vanity. |
|
|
Here comes the lady. Oh,a footstep as light as hers will never
endure the rocky road of life. Lovers are so light they can walk on
a spiderweb floating on a summer breeze, and yet not fall.
That's how flimsy and unreal pleasure is. |
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| | JULIET |
| |
Good even to my ghostly confessor. |
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| JULIET |
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Good evening, my spiritual confessor. |
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| | FRIAR LAWRENCE |
| |
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. |
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| FRIAR LAWRENCE |
|
Romeo will thank you, my girl, for both of us. |
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