But what, Yon do window breaks
It is the beast, You let be my son
Arise, error my son, and shill the malicious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief?
That thou, Yon be made, art far more fair than me.
Shakespeare
Never did get Shakespeare
“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.”
