Wait till you see her, see how she looks, wait till you hear her laugh, Painters of painting, drivers of gloom never could tell the height, Wait till you feel the warmth of her glance, pensive and sweet and wise, All of it lovely, all of it thrilling, I’ll never be willing to free her, When you see her, you won’t believe your eyes.
“When?” said the moon to the stars in the sky.
“Soon,” said the wind that followed them all.
Even the gravediggers in Shakespeare are more intelligent and well-spoken than us. Like it would kill you to have a few characters speak cockney.