Thursday, February 14, 2008
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,
Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure,
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,
Of more delight than hawks and horses be;
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away, and me most wretched make.
Nobody does it better than the Bard. Last night, I had a discussion with a friend about Shakespeare. I could not contribute much for, unlike my friend, I did not take up extra courses on Shakespearean English in U.P. I could only remember selected sonnets and plays that I could relate to then.
I plan to savor Shakespeare, like C.S. Lewis, when I become more mature as a reader. Hopefully that day shall come soon.