ROMEO : If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin 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' kiss.

ROMEO : Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

JULIET : Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

ROMEO : 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 : Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

[He Kisses her.]

Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

JULIET : Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO : Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.

[He Kisses her.]

JULIET : You kiss by th' book.