"Juliet - Wilt thou be done? It is not yet near day:
It was the nigthingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear,
Nigthly she sings on yond pomegranate tree,
Believe me love, it was the nightingale.
Romeo - It was the lark, the herald of the morn:
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops,
I must be gone and live, or stay and die."
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, London: Penguin Books, 1994, Act. III, c. 3, p. 99.
No comments:
Post a Comment