This service is brought to you today by:
fender flares / air springs / led turn signals / custom powder coating / federal contract dispute / steve forget / ameriguard / rock blasting / Ford Truck Fan / Public Safety Equipment




King Edward the Third
Page: 12

To that which craves unended admiration?
Read, let us hear.

LODOWICK.
'More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,'--

KING EDWARD.
That line hath two faults, gross and palpable:
Comparest thou her to the pale queen of night,
Who, being set in dark, seems therefore light?
What is she, when the sun lifts up his head,
But like a fading taper, dim and dead?
My love shall brave the eye of heaven at noon,
And, being unmasked, outshine the golden sun.

LODOWICK.
What is the other fault, my sovereign Lord?

KING EDWARD.
Read o'er the line again.

LODOWICK.
'More fair and chaste'--

KING EDWARD.
I did not bid thee talk of chastity,
To ransack so the treasure of her mind;
For I had rather have her chased than chaste.
Out with the moon line, I will none of it;
And let me have her likened to the sun:
Say she hath thrice more splendour than the sun,
That her perfections emulate the sun,
That she breeds sweets as plenteous as the sun,
That she doth thaw cold winter like the sun,
That she doth cheer fresh summer like the sun,
The she doth dazzle gazers like the sun;
And, in this application to the sun,
Bid her be free and general as the sun,
Who smiles upon the basest weed that grows
As lovingly as on the fragrant rose.
Let's see what follows that same moonlight line.

LODOWICK.
'More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,
More bold in constance'--

KING EDWARD.
In constance! than who?

LODOWICK.
'Than Judith was.'

KING EDWARD.
O monstrous line! Put in the next a sword,
And I shall woo her to cut of my head.
Blot, blot, good Lodowick! Let us hear the next.

LODOWICK.
There's all that yet is done.

KING EDWARD.
I thank thee then; thou hast done little ill,
But what is done, is passing, passing ill.
No, let the Captain talk of boisterous war,
The prisoner of emured dark constraint,
The sick man best sets down the pangs of death,
The man that starves the sweetness of a feast,
The frozen soul the benefit of fire,
And every grief his happy opposite:
Love cannot sound well but in lover's tongues;
Give me the pen and paper, I will write.
Go To Page:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57





Home