8 April
8 April
8 April 1920
Your Sunday letter has come. Would you rather Arthur didn't come to the station. Tell me and tell him. Bogey, I feel I was too undisciplined about my story & Constable. I leave it to you. Youre my Cricket. If you agree to what they say - why then, alls well. (And I DO want the money.) Je t'aime.
Our queer correspondences again. I have steeped in Shakespeare these last days with a note book - looking up every word finding what are inkles and caddises - & I have felt that we must read more - you & I - read together. I nearly know the sheep shearing scene from A Winters Tale by heart. Its the most bewitching scene - but thats one of my favourite plays. If I am strictly truthful I know nearly all of it almost by heart. And I began reading the songs in Twelfth Night in bed this morning early.
Mark it Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones
Do use to chant it - it is silly sooth
And dallies with the innocence of love
Like the old age.
Clo: Are you ready Sir.
Duke: Ay, prithee sing. Music.
Clo: Come away, come away, death etc.
Oh how that does all ravish me. I think I could listen to that for a small eternity. My dear love we must read together, read aloud to each other. Do you know, by the way, Alexander Smiths Essay on Chaucer?
Goodbye for now dearest dear - What a miracle that we should love each other and love the same other loves.
Your own Wig-wife.
[To J. M. Murry in Collected Letters, 7 April 1920]
Twelfth Night. Viola.
If one should be a prey how much the better
To fall before the lion than the wolf!
Some are born - - some achieve - - and some have - - thrust upon them.
[KM Notebooks, undated]