Romeo - Son to Montague:
If I profane with my unworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the gentle find is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet - Daughter to Capulet:
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Romeo - Son to Montague:
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Juliet - Daughter to Capulet:
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Romeo - Son to Montague:
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:48
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