The queen-mother. Rosamond. 2 plays

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Page 166 - ... double need; you are not so choice That in the golden kingdom of your eyes All coins should melt for service. But I that am Part of the perfect witness for the world How good it is; I chosen in God's eyes To fill the lean account of under men, The lank and hunger-bitten ugliness Of half his people ; I who make fair heads Bow, saying, " though we be in no wise fair We have touched all beauty with our eyes, we have Some relish in the hand, and in the lips Some breath of it...
Page 189 - I will not praise her to you. Show me a little golden good of yours, But some soft piece of gracious habit grown Common with you, quite new with me and sweet. It is the smell of roses where you come That makes my sense faint now; you taste of it, Walk with it always.
Page 191 - I could cry on you Like a maid weeping-wise, you are so fair It hurts me in the head, makes the life sick Here in my hands, that one may see how beats Feverous blue upon my finger-tips.
Page 165 - Than many women; you are not over fair, Nor delicate with some exceeding good In the sweet flesh ; you have no much tenderer soul Than love is moulded out of for God's use Who wrought our double need; you are not so choice That in the golden kingdom of your eyes All coins should melt for service. But I that am Part...
Page 165 - Seeing how myself am scorned unworthily ; But anger here so takes me in the throat I would speak now for fear it strangle me. Here, let me feel your hair and hands and face; I see not flesh is holier than flesh, Or blood than blood more choicely qualified That scorn should live between them.
Page 170 - Yea, I am found the woman in all tales, The face caught always in the story's face; I Helen, holding Paris by the lips, Smote Hector through the head ; I Cressida So kissed men's mouths that they went sick or mad. Stung right at brain with me ; I Guenevere Made my queen's eyes so precious and my hair Delicate with such gold in its soft ways And my mouth honied so for Launcelot...
Page 37 - Nay, I shall try your trust. Sit by me, so ; Lay your hands thus. By God how fair you are, It does amaze me ; surely God felt glad The day he finished making you. Eh sweet, You have the eyes men choose to paint, you know ; And just that soft turn in the little throat And bluish colour in the lower lid They make saints with.
Page 35 - Now I would kill you here between the eyes, Plant the steel's bare chill where I set my mouth, Or prick you somewhere under the left side . . . Yea I could search thy veins about with steel Till in no corner of thy crannied blood Were left to run red witness of a man . . . Sooner than lose this face to touch, this hair To twist new curls in; yea, prove me verily, Sift passion pure to the blind edge of pain, And see if I will. — This...
Page 12 - There is no crown i' the world So good as patience ; neither is any peace That God puts in our lips to drink as wine, More honey-pure, more worthy love's own praise, Than that sweet-souled endurance which makes clean The iron hands of anger.
Page 166 - I that have held a land between twin lips And turned large England to a little kiss ; God thinks not of me as contemptible.

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