No more o’ that.
FRIAR
Sweet Alis, ’tis the art.
When I look thus,—’tis moonlight. When I sigh
Thus,—’tis a zephyr wooing apple blossoms.
ALISOUN
Wooing a sick goat! Read ahead.
FRIAR
Ahem!
[Reads.]
No more o’ that.
FRIAR
Sweet Alis, ’tis the art.
When I look thus,—’tis moonlight. When I sigh
Thus,—’tis a zephyr wooing apple blossoms.
ALISOUN
Wooing a sick goat! Read ahead.
FRIAR
Ahem!
[Reads.]