Thursday, January 20, 2011
bear it out to the edge of doom
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
It's odd how people find Shakespeare dry or difficult. Came across this and I was just thinking how modern it sounded to my ears.
But then I'm in love with the Bard and I find these lines - as I have found so much of his other work - so beautiful that time seems to stop as I read.
'Bear with me please' is a refrain we hear when people are about to launch into a lengthy explanation (or diatribe). But here it reminds us that love asks you to bear with another to the edge of doom.
Because when evening comes and the drafts of the day have been handed in, what else is there?