O
mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O,
stay and hear, your true love’s coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip
no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys
end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man’s son doth know.
What
is love? ‘Tis not hereafter,
Present
mirth hath present laughter,
What’s to come is still unsure:
In
delay there lies no plenty,
Then
come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
-Feste
Twelfth Night Act II, Scene i, Line 78
I saw this play live in Nashville last year, and Feste was played by a
guy in a cowboy hat with a guitar. So he sang this song in a very country western way, and that seemed very appropriately Nashvillian.
No comments:
Post a Comment