That’s because I doubted your sudden-deep affection.
Shakespeare:
Write down the day we are to meet, will you? now; and all the time between shall die and be a void.
Miss Fitton:
[Archly.] Suppose I said to-night—here?
Shakespeare:
What wine of life you pour! My blood’s aflame and shaken into blinding colours. To-night and night is here! I feel the minutes throbbing past. To-night, my night of nights. O Sweet, make me atone this ecstasy, or—To-night, you Queen of Night—You heart of joy!
Miss Fitton:
I shall be late, you know. It will be midnight——
Shakespeare: