RALPH: Look at you two. You guys are adorable. 

ROMEO: Thanks. 

JULIET: Thanks. 

RALPH: So here we are. Looks like you two are going to get married. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: May heaven smile upon this holy act so we don't regret it later. 

RALPH: So are you still a little worried about this? 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Well—

ROMEO: It doesn't matter. One moment alone with her gives me so much joy, it doesn't matter what happens next. Just marry us, and let love-devouring death do what he dare. 

RALPH: So even if it means your death, this marriage is still worth it? 

ROMEO: As long as she's mine. 

RALPH: Larry? 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Ralph, it's like we've talked about before. It's all a matter of proportion. Violent passion leads to violent ends. It's like fire and gun powder. They explode in a kiss, and then they're gone. Too much sugar-- or high fructose corn syrup, for god's sake—and you get a stomach ache. Love moderately. That's the kind of love that lasts. 

RALPH: Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow, you say? 

FRIAR LAURENCE: That's right. Too fast is as bad as too slow. It's a matter of proportion. Moderation, it's crucial. 

RALPH: Now, what about you two? How are you guys feeling? 

ROMEO: If you're as happy as I am, we should let them know how we feel. You can make it sound a lot better than I could. 

JULIET: Well, what we feel is more important than how we say it. Those who can count how much money they have are poor. I couldn't count even half of how much joy I feel. 

FRIAR LAURENCE: Oh, my. We'd better get on with this. I'm not leaving these two alone until they're properly married. 

RALPH: Say no more. You guys, go get married. This is a great job sometimes. The stuff you see.