Fiore d’arancio

OBERON: Hast thee the flower there?
PUCK: Ay, there it is.
OBERON: I pray thee, give it me. I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine: there sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight; and there the snake throws her enamell’d skin, weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in. [...]
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream