But, soft! what light through yonder 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, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing; what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright 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!
She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o’er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
William Shakespeare
Outras frases de William Shakespeare
+ Velo teu coração de qualquer perigo, à semelhança da ama que zela o bebê de um rei. - William Shakespeare
+ Vê como o meu anel se ajusta ao teu dedo, tal como o teu peito encerra meu triste coração. Usa-los ambos, porque ambos são teus, e se for lícito a este teu pobre e dedicado servo implorar um favor à tua graciosa mão, para todo o sempre assim confirmarias a sua felicidade. - William Shakespeare
+ Você pode fechar os seus olhos para as coisas que você não quer ver, mas não pode fechar os seu coração para as coisas que não quer sentir. - William Shakespeare
+ Você fala uma quantidade infinita de nada. - William Shakespeare
+ Vivi muito tempo, e o caminho da minha vida perde-se nas folhas amarelas e secas. - William Shakespeare