Now what my love is, proof hath made you know, And as my love is sized, my fear is so.

When we were small, they had us each lie down on a big piece of paper and they drew an outline around our bodies.
We had a life-size paper outline of ourselves and we colored them in, giving us our own paper clothes and paper features. All lined up next to each other, you could see kids who were similarly sized.
Could we have our love lie down like this?
Have someone draw an outline around it with a thick scented marker? What shape would it be? What size?
I’d like to believe my love was bigger than me but I fear that it is smaller. And I’d like to believe my fear, were it subject to the same process, would be smaller than me but I fear that it is bigger.
But, let’s, for the sake of argument and literary symmetry, say that love and fear are the same size.
Let’s say their outlines are interchangeable.
Let’s say they are both me shaped, that each one’s outline is mine.
How would I color them in?
How would they be distinguished if not by size and shape?
It’s all theory until the day I get out the markers and the big paper to try it out.

For women fear too much, even as they love,And women’s fear and love hold quantity,In neither aught, or in extremity.

Do we?Do we all?

I’m not sure.

I know a lot of women who fear a great deal. They’re afraid of disease and of risky behavior. All things that it does make sense to fear, particularly if your own security depends on someone else’s life. When a woman is dependent on a man for her survival, it is only logical that she be a bit cautious for him as well.

But for those who are not dependent, the fear is not inevitable. Risky behavior might even be attractive.

Fear isn’t a given.

I have a lot of love.
And I have a quantity of fear, too – but it’s not for my partner really.

Sure, I’d rather he didn’t encounter disease or trouble in any way. But I’m not afraid of it. Not in him or in myself. 

The things I fear are more like: Will I ever find a way to make a decent living?

Yet, though I distrust, Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must.

This is the tricky think about relationships- the balancing of one’s needs with someone else’s.
I tend to weigh other’s needs over my own. But sometimes I just need to say something. Something – it’s necessary to share the distrust while simultaneously acknowledging that I’d prefer not to discomfort you.
In the Queen’s case – it would seem to be distrust of his own reporting of his health. Or maybe just his straight up health. I’ve known many people to underplay their difficulties – the “I’m fine, don’t worry” school. I know there are those who play that card the opposite way – the ones who are convinced they are dying and say, “I have a small cough. Worry!”
But I don’t hang out with those folks – I tend to hang out with my own tribe – the stoic, this broken bone is no big deal, this wound is nothing, sort of people. And sometimes you just want to take them to the hospital. But I don’t want you to feel bad about it.

But woe is me, you are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state That I distrust you.

What is bringing the Player King down?
With what is he sick?
If the king weren’t about to be killed one might think he would soon be dead from natural causes – given how they both talk about his health.
It is a funny pre-murder scene. Death is looming, casting a shadow over the Player Royal family and then it appears from the other side.

Does the king, in sooth, know why he is so sad?

So many journeys may the sun and moon Make us again count o’er ere love be done!

Here at the café I’m writing in, they’re playing an album I listened to a lot well over two decades ago. It’s one I haven’t heard in ages. Many journeys of sun and moon have happened since then.

I was certainly a much different person then. I can’t imagine loving any one person throughout that journey, throughout those particular passages of sun and moon. I did love my friends throughout that transition – a good many of the dearest ones remain so. But to be partnered, watching sun and moon for thirty years, particularly those youthful 30 years, well, that’s harder for me to imagine. Most partners in that period lasted about two moons before our love was done. Sometimes it’s clear when a particular love cake is BAKED and ready to come out of the oven. And sometimes you might have the sort of love that cooks slowly and may never need to come out of the oven.