Proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders will.

Oh yeah. Compulsive order, giving the charge. Mmm-hmmm.
I mean, what’s funny about this is that it’s such a masculine way to think about lust. I mean- I think, in a man, lust can feel like a compulsion which charges forth. It’s sort of the nature of an erection.
But for women, who are Hamlet’s concern here, I can’t imagine any woman describing her desire this way. It’s more a heat that distracts than a compulsion that charges. It’s more like stepping into a warm pool. You want to swim, of course. Of course you want to swim. The water is warm and all you can think about is how warm the water is and how nice it would be to just sink into it. But it’s not a charge – unless we’re thinking of a charge in the electrical sense – in which case – okay – I can go with that. But even in the electrical sense – it’s not putting your finger in a light socket charge, it’s a bulb on a dimmer – which you can turn up quickly, sure – but you can also turn up slowly.

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