[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] Then 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.