15 April
15 April
15 April 1920
My darling,
I envy you ‘madly' going to see Cymbeline. If you knew how full my mind is of Shakespeare! Its a perfect world - his pastoral world. I roam through the Forest of Arden & sit on the spiced Indian sands laughing with Titania. When we do get a small quiet moment - what talks! But you are going to Stratford on Avon. Lucky, lucky boy! And you won't remember for a moment that was the first English country your wife saw & she used to walk about there with her hair down her back wearing a pinky grey hat & even in those days carrying one of those small green Shakespeares - but of course it was Amleto, then. Talk about excitement - inward excitement. I wish I could keep it down. The fire - the beacon you know - the Bon Feu of bonfires is blazing away already with a kind of soft silent roaring most difficult to bear. We meet - heaven defend us - this day fortnight at 9 of the clock.
[. . .]
I love your comment on The Fair Maid of the West. My day book contains a regular gallimaufry of things - from "curtains for studio windows & landing windows must be lined" to hints for lunches and dinners taken from Annette here to notes & drawings of flowers & their leaves buds and seed pods minutely described to observations on a peke burying a nonexistent bone to - Shakespeare again. Thus the whirligig . . . Its grey; its rather cold. Its going to rain. I shant be able to go to my party. Oh weh oh weh!
xxx x x x
Fair young x King of Broomies x thy dear Love & Queen salutes thee.
x x x x x x
Wig Regina. [To J. M. Murry in Collected Letters]