There once was a time where what I liked to do, preferred above all else really, was ride my horse, Horse, and to taunt the farm boy. I was never really one for boys, or for bathing.
An interesting fact about Princess Buttercup, is that for a time, "She hated to wash her face, she loathed the area behind her ears, she was sick of combing her hair and did so as little as possible" (Goldman 42). In my personal opinion this shows us a lot about the princess, on one hand, we could view her as rude, stubborn, and unhygienic, (which she very well was), but it also shows us that there was a time when she cared very little about things such as appearance. And yet, despite what I said, others in the village would act rather rudely towards me, the other girls stopped talking to me. One day, when I asked a girl named Cornelia about the silence she replied, “I should think, after what you’ve done, you’d have the courtesy not to pretend to ask” (Goldman 43). As you could probably imagine, I was rather upset. And rather confused. “And what have I done?” “What? What?...You’ve stolen them” (Goldman 43). And with that she turned and fled, but I understood, I knew who “them” was. Those “beef-witted featherbrained rattleskulled clodpated dim-domed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunkknobbed boys” (Goldman 44). Ugh, I hold to my claim that I was never really one for boys, especially those boys. Around when I turned seventeen, men would come to town in carriages, just for the ‘privilege’ to catch a glimpse of me, they would gather outside of my window and laugh about me. At first I found it revolting, but I soon just learned to ignore them. If they grew too damaging, the farm boy handled things, he would thrash a few of them and send the others on there way. I never failed to thank him for this, and as always he would simply reply with ‘As you wish.’ For some odd reason, one day the Count and Countess came to our farm asking about our cows. Yes, our cows. This apparently made no sense to my parents, our cows were not necessarily known for their milk. But what did make our cows so amazing was that the farm boy cared for them. I told them that. After they left, all I could see, all I could think about for that entire rest of the day, was how the Countess looked at the farm boy. I closed my eyes and the Countess was looking at Westley. Every time I closed my eyes the Countess would not stop staring at Westley! I don’t know why but it burned inside of me, he’s my farm boy, he’s my Westley! I sat in bed and thought about him, “the farm boy had eyes like the sea before a storm, but who cared about eyes? And he had pale blond hair, if you liked that sort of thing. And he was broad enough in the shoulders, but not all that much broader than the Count. And certainly he was muscular, but anybody would be muscular who slaved all day. And his skin was perfect and tan, but that came again from the slaving; in the sun all day, who wouldn’t be tan? And he wasn’t that much taller than the Count either, although his stomach was flatter, but that was because the farm boy was younger” (Goldman 56). I sat up in bed, “ it must be his teeth. The farm boy did have good teeth, give credit where credit was due. White and perfect, particularly set against the sun-tanned face” (Goldman 56). But it really does make no sense why someone such as the Countess would get so hung up about his teeth. There must have been something I was missing. Oh, oh dear, the farm boy was staring back at the Countess. But she’s so old, and she really looked very ridiculous in the dress, and that dress looked very ridiculous in the cowshed. She looked ridiculous even before she got to the cowshed. “With her too big painted mouth and her little piggy painted eyes and her powdered skin and … and … and….” (Goldman 57). Flailing, and thrashing I wept and tossed and paced and wept some more. I wanted him he is my farm boy. Oh, this is what love must feel like.
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AuthorPrincess Buttercup of Hammersmith was once a poor peasant. She fell in love with the farm boy, Westley, and they decided to get married. Tragedy strikes and Westley is reported to have died at sea. Buttercup vows to never love again, even though she gets engaged to Prince Humperdinck roughly five years later. Buttercup is almost assassinated by Vizzini, Inigo, and Fezzik, but saved by a mysterious man, who is in fact her long lost love, Westley... Quotes"Enough about my beauty. Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I’ve got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.”
“Westley and I are joined by the bond of love and you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.” “I love you, I know this must come as something of a surprise, since all I’ve ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm.” "Let me get this straight. Are you saying my love is a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images confuse me so - is this universal business of yours bigger than my sand? Help me, Westley. I have the feeling we're on the verge of something just terribly important.” “Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only, my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup." She looked at Humperdinck. "Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him?" |