Wanting to post a bit of Shakespeare for the occasion, I thought of these two passages.
From King Lear, bitterest grief:
KING LEAR: A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
I might have saved her; now she’s gone for ever!
Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
What is’t thou say’st? Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
I kill’d the slave that was a-hanging thee.
…
And my poor fool is hang’d! No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
Look there, look there!
And from The Tempest, sweetest love:
MIRANDA: Do you love me?
FERDINAND: O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound
And crown what I profess with kind event
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me to mischief! I
Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world
Do love, prize, honour you.
MIRANDA: I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.
PROSPERO: Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between ’em!
FERDINAND: Wherefore weep you?
MIRANDA: At mine unworthiness that dare not offer
What I desire to give, and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, if you will marry me;
If not, I’ll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I’ll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.
FERDINAND: My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.
MIRANDA: My husband, then?
FERDINAND: Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand.
MIRANDA: And mine, with my heart in’t; and now farewell
Till half an hour hence.
Text and some HTML borrowed from shakespeare.mit.edu
The lines which get to me the most are, from Lear: I kill’d the slave that was a-hanging thee. The line falls like a lead anvil, and there’s a moment of satisfaction in it—did any man ever deserve killing more?—but only a moment. And of course Never, never…
And Miranda: I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I’ll die your maid…. Not I will be your wife but I am your wife. Happy the man whose love has said these words to him, or, since she probably didn’t have these words, the thought.
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