An old artistic trick cited by Edmund Burke in his Essay on the Sublime (1756) is to get the audience used to a standard of size or beauty, and then shatter it with something so much greater that only comparison with the infinite will work. People who saw "Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind" will remember the scene where the flying saucers land, and everyone says, oh we can handle this, and then the mother ship appears (not so much a saucer as an entire dinner service). After 30 years of reading "Romeo and Juliet" I suddenly discovered the same trick as used by the master. When the play opens, Romeo is sick with love for Rosalind, who is extolled as the greatest beauty, etc. The moment he sees Juliet, we hear no more of Rosalind. From then on Shakespeare uses the "mother ship" trick to describe Juliet.
When Romeo first sees her at the ball, he says:
"Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night,
like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear."
This sets up the light imagery: fire, bright jewels.

And then more famously, Romeo finds himself in the blackness of her back yard, and a light goes on in a window:
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick, and pale with grief,
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she....[Enter Juliet]
Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head? --
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; he eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
Would that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek.

The trick pulled, over and over. The return of the cheek is nice too. Fine to watch a master at work.
yours, Peter T.