Romeo:
But, soft! What light beyond the window breaks? It is the east - and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid are made of far more fair than she. Wait! It is my lady or is my love! O, that she knew she were! The brightness of her cheek would shame the stars, as daylight doth a lamp. And her eyes, set in heaven would give forth such light that birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!
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05/03/2025 alle ore 09:07
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