Here hath my lovely jowlopped-crested brother so beset
poor Robin with Love and self and Robin, that Robin kens not which is Love,
Love's self or himself.
MELISSA: And yet I do think 'tis very plain! Yet an thou canst express this
plainer, prithee do, Sir Fool.
"Blithely, sweet lady, here will I frame my meaning in a rhyme, thus:
"Who loveth Love himself above,
With Love base self transcending
Love, Love shall teach how Love may reach
The Love that hath no ending.
"'Tis thus Love-true, Love shall renew,
Love's love thus waning never,
So love each morn of Love new-born,
Love shall live loving ever."
ROBIN: Aye, verily, there's Love and yet such a love as no man may find
methinks, brother.
JOCELYN: Never, Robin, until it find him. For true love, like friendship,
cometh unsought, like all other good things.
ROBIN: 'Las! then needs must I be no good thing since I am sought e'en now
of old Mopsa the Witch yonder!
And he pointed where the old creature hobbled towards them bent on her
crooked staff.
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