Friar.
So smile the Heavens upon the holy Act,
That after Hours of Sorrow chide us not.

Rom.
Amen, Amen: But come what Sorrow can,
It cannot countervail th'Exchange of Joy,
That one short Minute gives me in her Sight:
Do thou but close our Hands with holy Words,
Then Love devouring Death do what he dare,
It is enough, I may but call her mine.

Fri.
These violent Delights have violent Ends,
And in their Triumph die; like Fire and Powder,
Which as they meet, consume; the sweetest Honey
Is loathsome in its own Deliciousness,
And in the Taste destroys the Appetite:
Therefore love mod'rately; long Love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy, as too slow. Enter Juliet.
Here comes the Lady—

Juliet.
Good-ev'n to my Ghostly Confessor.

Fri.
Romeo shall thank thee, Daughter, for us both.

Jul.
As much to him. Else are his Thanks too much.

Rom.
Ah! Juliet, if the Measures of thy Joy,
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy Skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy Breath
This neighb'ring Air; and let rich Musick's Tongue
Unfold th'imagin'd Happiness, that both
Receive in either, by this dear Encounter.

Jul.
Conceit more rich in Matter than in Words,
Brags of his Substance, not of Ornament:
They are but Beggars that can count their Worth;

But my true Love is grown to such Excess,
I cannot sum up one half of my Wealth.

Fri.
Come, come with me, and we will make short Work;
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
'Till holy Rites incorp'rate two in one. [Exeunt.

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