Pois há menos peixinhos a nadar no mar
Do que os beijinhos que eu darei na sua boca.
DESDEMONA
My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:EMILIA
She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;'
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it: that song to-night
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.
Shall I go fetch your night-gown?DESDEMONA
No, unpin me here.EMILIA
This Lodovico is a proper man.
A very handsome man.DESDEMONA
He speaks well.EMILIA
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefootDESDEMONA
to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
[Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,EMILIA
Sing all a green willow:
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
Lay by these:--Singing
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--Singing
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?
It's the wind.DESDEMONA
[Singing] I call'd my love false love; but whatEMILIA
said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?
'Tis neither here nor there.DESDEMONA
I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!EMILIA
Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,--
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?
There be some such, no question.DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?EMILIA
Why, would not you?DESDEMONA
No, by this heavenly light!EMILIA
Nor I neither by this heavenly light;DESDEMONA
I might do't as well i' the dark.
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?EMILIA
The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.DESDEMONA
For a small vice.
In troth, I think thou wouldst not.EMILIA
In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I hadDESDEMONA
done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a
joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for
gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty
exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
not make her husband a cuckold to make him a
monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrongEMILIA
For the whole world.
Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: andDESDEMONA
having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
own world, and you might quickly make it right.
I do not think there is any such woman.EMILIA
Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as wouldDESDEMONA
store the world they played for.
But I do think it is their husbands' faults
If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite;
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs?
It is so too: and have not we affections,
Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
Then let them use us well: else let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.
Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!
Shakespeare, Othello.
no me la dejéis en sombra
florezca la rosa amarilla.
la llama oscura de la tierra.
no me la dejéis en sombra.
con rosales de alegría:
entre rosal y rosal,
la rosa de maravilla.
Rayo de aurora parece
y un arcángel la vigila,
las alas como tormentas,
los ojos como agonías.
Alrededor de sus hojas
arroyos de leche tibia
juegan y mojan la cara
de las estrellas tranquilas.
Señor, abre tu rosal
sobre mi carne marchita.
las ascuas de su mejilla.
de tu santa romería.
Abre tu rosa en mi carne
aunque tenga mil espinas.
no me la dejéis en sombra.
la rosa de maravilla.
Ferderico García Lorca, Yerma.