:42:05
Oh, Thomas,
she has cut my strings.
:42:10
I'm unmanned,
:42:12
unmended and unmade,
:42:15
like a puppet
in a box.
:42:17
- Writer, is he?
- Row your boat!
:42:19
She tells me
to keep away.
:42:21
She is to marry Lord Wessex!
What should I do?
:42:25
If you love her,
you must do as she asks.
:42:28
- And break her heart and mine?
- It is only yours you can know.
:42:31
She loves me, Thomas!
:42:33
- Does she say so?
- No.
:42:35
And yet she does where the ink has run
with tears.
:42:38
- Was she weeping
when she gave you this?
- Uh--
:42:41
- Her letter came to me by the nurse.
- Your aunt.
:42:44
Yes, my aunt.
:42:48
But perhaps
she wept a little.
:42:52
Tell me
how you love her, Will.
:42:55
Like a sickness
and its cure together.
:42:58
[ Sighs ]
Oh, yes.
:43:01
Like rain and sun.
:43:04
Like cold and heat.
:43:07
Is your lady beautiful?
:43:09
[ Clears Throat ]
Since I came here from the country,
:43:13
I have not
seen her close.
:43:15
Tell me, is--
is she beautiful?
:43:18
Thomas, if I could write
with the beauty of her eyes,
:43:22
I was born to look in them
and know myself.
:43:26
[ Sighs ]
A-A-And her lips?
:43:28
Her lips?
:43:30
The early morning rose would whither
on the branch if it could feel envy.
:43:34
And her voice,
like lark's song?
:43:37
Deeper, softer.
None of your twittering larks.
:43:40
I would banish nightingales from her
garden before they interrupt her song.
:43:43
- Ah, she sings too?
- Constantly.
:43:46
Without doubt. And plays the lute.
She has a natural ear.
:43:50
And her bosom.
:43:52
Did I mention her bosom?
:43:54
What of her bosom?
:43:56
Oh, Thomas,
a pair of pippins...
:43:58
as round and rare
as golden apples.