Enter Romeo and Juliet
Juliet. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
[Nightly] she sings on yon pomegranate-tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks
Do [lace] the severing clouds in yonder east.