“…Whut light through yonner window busts? It is th’ east, an’ Juliet is th’ sun, as enny fool kin plainly see. Arise, fair sun, an’ kill th’ envious moon, Who is already sick an’ pale wif grief, Thet thou her maid art far mo’e fair than she: Be not her maid, on account o’ she is invious; Her vestal livery is but sick an’ green An’ none but fools does wears it; cast it off. It is mah lady, O, it is mah love! O, thet she knowed she were! She speaks yet she says nothin’: whut of thet? Her eye discourses; ah will answer it. ah’s too bold, ’tis not t’me she speaks: Two of th’ fairess stars in all th’ hevvin, Havin’ some business, does entreat her eyes To twinkle in their sphars till they return, as enny fool kin plainly see. Whut in tarnation eff’n her eyes were thar, they in her haid? Th’ brightness of her cheek’d shame them stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in hevvin W’d through th’ airy region stream so bright Thet birds’d sin’ an’ reckon it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her han’! O, thet ah were a glove upon thet han’, Thet ah might touch thet cheek! Fry mah hide! ”

Via captain_rug_munch (It was hilarious… thought I’d share)