1 O now be gone, more light and light it grows.
2 A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
3 More light and light, more dark and dark our woes.
4 O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.
5 I mean sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, light lights by day.
6 Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy I will bear the light.
7 More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
8 A lover may bestride the gossamers That idles in the wanton summer air And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
9 It is some meteor that the sun exhales To be to thee this night a torchbearer And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
10 I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe.
11 A pack of blessings light upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But like a misshaped and sullen wench, Thou putt'st up thy Fortune and thy love.
12 With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
13 In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange.'
14 A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, I'll be a candle-holder and look on, The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
15 I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware, My true-love passion; therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered.'
16 The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And darkness fleckled like a drunkard reels From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's wheels Hence will I to my ghostly Sire's cell, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell.
17 At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house.
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