« Random Blog Irritation | Main | From fringes to the mainstream »

23 April 2012

Comments

Allan

That is certainly one of his many moods but this is an equally important one:
Perdita:I would I had some Flowres o' th Spring, that might
Become your time of day: and yours, and yours,
That weare upon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
For the Flowres now, that (frighted)thou let'st fall
From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take
The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,
But sweeter then the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,
That dye unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie
Most incident to Maids:)bold Oxlips, and
The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,
(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.)O these I lacke,
To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,
To strew him o're and o're.
Florizel: What? like a Coarse?
Perdita: No, like a banke, for Love to lye, and play on:
Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,
But quicke, and in mine armes.

Rosie

Well, no-one ever said WS played on one note.

The comments to this entry are closed.

Profile

  • Rosie Bell

    Some song writing, some verse writing and too much blogging about culture, politics, cycling and gardening.

    My Profile on Normblog