"Thomas Kent":
Is she beautiful?
William Shakespeare:
Thomas, if I could write the beauty of her eyes, I was born to look in them and know myself.
"Thomas Kent":
And her lips?
William Shakespeare:
Her lips? The early morning rose would whither on the branch if it could feel envy.
"Thomas Kent":
And her voice, like lark's song?
William Shakespeare:
Deeper. Softer. None of your twittering larks. I would banish nightingales from their garden before they interrupt her song.
"Thomas Kent":
Ah, she sings too?
William Shakespeare:
Constantly, without doubt. And plays the lute. She has a natural ear. And her bosom. Did I mention her bosom?
"Thomas Kent":
What of her bosom?
William Shakespeare:
Oh, Thomas, a pair of pippins as round and rare as golden apples.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:15
Consiglia
Voto
Nessun dato in archivio
Commenti
Nessun dato in archivio
