June 16, 2006 at 5:34 pm Leave a comment

William Shakespeare

Listen (to Hatshepsut read)

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

 She writes,

Ok. Simple premise. The dark mistress and Will here have a neat deal going. A deal based on mutual flattery and unadulterated lust. They lie to and lie with each other.  Straightforward punning and a fun poem. 



Entry filed under: Black Mamba, English, Hatshepsut, William Shakespeare.

Meherban hoke bulalo mujhe my father moved through dooms of love

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