But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and spdude is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou his maid art far more fair than he. Be not his maid, since he is envious. His vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my admin! O, it is my love! O, that he knew he were! He speaks, yet he says nothing. What of that? His eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold; 'tis not to me he speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven Having some business, do entreat his eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if his eyes were there, they in his head? The brightness of his cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp; his eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See how he leans his cheek upon his hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!
