Silent Night

ROMEO AND JULIET SCRIPT

Party scene

Did my heart love till now?
Forswear it, sight.

For I never saw true beauty till this night.

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.

              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.

              Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

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

              Well, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.

              They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

              Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

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

              - Yoo-hoo!

              Dave!

              Oh! Agh!

              Ugh!

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

              Then have my lips the sin that they have took?

              Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

              Give me my sin again.

              You kiss by the book.

              Juliet! Juliet! Oh!

              Juliet?

              Juliet!

              Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

              Come, let's away!

              Is she a Capulet?

              His name is Romeo, and he's a Montague,...

              ..the only son of your great enemy.

              Away, be gone. The sport is at its best.

              Ay, so I fear. The more is my unrest.

              I am a pretty piece offlesh!

              I am a pretty piece offlesh!

              I am a pretty piece of flesh! I am!

              My only love sprung from my only hate!

              Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

              Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy.

DEATH SCENE

 

My love...

                My wife...

                Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath...

                ..hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.

                Thou art not conquered.

                Beauty's ensign yet is crimson in thy lips 

and in thy cheeks...

                ..and death's pale flag is not advanced there.

                Dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair?

                Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is 

amorous...

                ..and keeps thee here in dark to be his 

paramour?

                Here.

                O, here will I set up my everlasting rest...

                ..and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 

from this world-wearied 

flesh.

                Eyes, look your last.

                Arms, take your last embrace.

                And lips...

                O you, the doors to breath,...

                ..seal with a righteous kiss...

                ..a dateless bargain...

                ..to engrossing death.

                Romeo...

                What's here?

                Poison...

                Drunk all, and left no friendly drop 

to help me after?

                I'll kiss thy lips.

                Haply some poison yet doth hang on 

them.

                Thy lips are warm.

                Thus...

                ..with a kiss...

                ..I die.

                See what a scourge is laid upon 

your hate,...

                ..that heaven finds means to kill 

your joys with love!

                And l, for winking at your discords 

too, have lost a brace of  kinsmen.

                All are punished.

                All are punished!

                A glooming peace this morning 

with it brings.

                The sun for sorrow will not show 

his head.

                Go hence, to have more talk of 

these sad things.

                Some shall be pardoned, and 

some punished.

                For never was a story of more woe than 

this of Juliet and her Romeo.