But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn;-
-Dumaine
Love’s
Labours’ Lost Act IV, Scene iii, Line 110
This is from
a twenty line ode that Dumaine has written to his unrequited love. Should I put
the whole ode here? Would anyone read it? I doubt. And since I need to get the
front door painted, I’m going to pass on the other eighteen lines for today.
Perhaps someday when I’m retired I will have a little more time.
Well, I got the front door painted. And whilst my hand is not sworn, my right shoulder is a bit worn. I gotta get that shoulder looked at.
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