12 July 2010

Shakespeare's Flowers

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
Sonnet 35

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
Julius Caesar

Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant Nettles or sow Lettuce, set Hyssop, and weed up Thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.


There thou prick'st her with a thistle.
Much Ado About Nothing

...from the gardens in Stratford.

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