It is my lady; O! it is my love...

Romeo and Juliet Act II. Scene II. The Same. CAPULET’S Orchard. Enter ROMEO. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?	4
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:	8
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady; O! it is my love:	12
O! that she knew she were.
She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks:	16
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
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?	20
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.	24
See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand:
O! that I were a glove upon that hand,That I might touch that cheek.

Valentines Day Giveaway!

♥  Hark! The Three Spinsters blog is hosting a Pretty Wit giveaway!  

Enter to WIN!!  Giveaway ends February 21st at midnight. ♥

Love note

 Hello my Pretties! I recently won this lovely prize from Knitted Home. The following letter reveals my innermost feelings for it. 

Dear Rose Pink Ear Warmer,

I love you.
How do I love you? Well now, let me count the ways...

You are so soft and cozy and you keep my ears warm while I'm working or playing. You make doing chores and taking walks so much better than before. You look so beautiful that it makes me beautiful too. You are so friendly and useful that everyone loves you and says they want one just like you. You have a pretty and convenient little button so that you don't muss my hair  or make it stick straight up when I put you on. How considerate you are! Remember that day I thought I'd lost you? I was so sad! But ah, there you were hiding in my bag, oh the joy I felt when I saw your pink self! Yes, you are a beautiful rose pink that seems to match everything I wear. I love that you have a twin that will make someone else just as happy as I am.  But mostly I love you because a lovely friend made you for me!

Oh, how I do love you. Will you be my Valentine?

Your friend for life,

Genevieve

P.S. For more mushy mush love posts go read our Three Spinsters blog. Lots of lovely posts by my sisters.

A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
by William Shakespeare

ACT IV SCENE V.
Elsinore. A room in the castle.


Re-enter OPHELIA

 LAERTES

Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
Should be as moral as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
It sends some precious instance of itself
After the thing it loves.

OPHELIA

[Sings]
They bore him barefaced on the bier;
Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
Fare you well, my dove!

LAERTES

Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move thus.

OPHELIA

[Sings]
You must sing a-down a-down,
An you call him a-down-a.
O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
steward, that stole his master's daughter.

LAERTES

This nothing's more than matter.

OPHELIA

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES

A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA

There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end,--
Sings
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

LAERTES

Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favour and to prettiness.

OPHELIA

[Sings]
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead:
Go to thy death-bed:
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan:
God ha' mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.
Exit

Fare you well,
Aimee