Juliet - Daughter to Capulet:
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear. Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. And believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Romeo - Son to Montague:
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale. Look. Look, what envious streaks, 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.
Juliet - Daughter to Capulet:
Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I. It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torchbearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua. Therefore stay yet. Thou need'st not to be gone.
Romeo - Son to Montague:
I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye. Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat, The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. I have more care to stay than will to go. Come, death, and welcome! How is my soul? Let's talk. It is not day.
Juliet - Daughter to Capulet:
It is, it is. Hie hence! Be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune. O, now be gone. More light and light it grows.
Riportata da il 05/03/2025 alle ore 08:44

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