Aaron: If one good deed in all my life I did,
I do repent it from my very soul.
I do repent it from my very soul.
Friday, September 20, 2013
9.20.2013.16
Aaron: If there be devils, would I were a devil.
To live and burn in everlasting fire,
So I might have your company in hell,
But to torment you with my Bitter tongue!
To live and burn in everlasting fire,
So I might have your company in hell,
But to torment you with my Bitter tongue!
9.20.2013.15
Aaron: Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know
An idiot holds his bauble for a god,
And keeps the oath which by that god he swears.
An idiot holds his bauble for a god,
And keeps the oath which by that god he swears.
9.20.2013.14
Titus: Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears,
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.
And tears will quickly melt thy life away.
9.20.2013.12
Titus: Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
9.20.2013.11
Aaron: Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace,
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
9.20.2013.10
Titus: When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears.
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.
9.20.2013.9
Titus: For now I stand as one upon a rock
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
9.20.2013.8
Marcus: O! that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn form forth that pretty hollow cage,
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn form forth that pretty hollow cage,
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.
9.20.2013.7
Titus: Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
9.20.2013.6
Titus: A stone is silent, and offendeth not,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
9.20.2013.5
Quintus: I am surprised with an uncouth fear:
A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
A chilling sweat o'erruns my trembling joints:
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
9.20.2013.4
Demetrius: Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her:
First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw.
This minion stood upon her chastity,
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,
And with that painted hope she braves your mightiness:
And shall she carry this unto her grave?
Chiron: And if she do, I would I were a eunuch.
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.
First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw.
This minion stood upon her chastity,
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty,
And with that painted hope she braves your mightiness:
And shall she carry this unto her grave?
Chiron: And if she do, I would I were a eunuch.
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole,
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.
9.20.2013.3
Aaron: The woods are ruthless, dreadfull, deaf and dull;
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns;
There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye,
And revel in Lavinia's treasury.
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns;
There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye,
And revel in Lavinia's treasury.
9.20.2013.2
Demetrius: Not I, till I have sheath'd
My rapier in his bosom and withal
Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat
That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here.
My rapier in his bosom and withal
Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat
That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
9.19.2013.21
Aufidius: There was it;
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
9.19.2013.19
Menenius: The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
Than in our priest-like fasts:
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
Than in our priest-like fasts:
9.19.2013.18
Volumnia: You might have been enough the man you are
With striving less to be so: lesser had been
The thwarting of your dispositions if
You had not show'd them how you were dispos'd,
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
With striving less to be so: lesser had been
The thwarting of your dispositions if
You had not show'd them how you were dispos'd,
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
9.19.2013.17
Menenius: One word more, one word.
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,
Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process;
Lest parties-as he is belov'd-break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,
Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process;
Lest parties-as he is belov'd-break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.
9.19.2013.16
Brutus: You speak o' the people
As if you were a god to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.
As if you were a god to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.
9.19.2013.15
Volumnia: These are the ushers of Marcius: before him
he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie;
Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.
he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie;
Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die.
9.19.2013.14
Lartius: Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be thy page!
9.19.2013.13
Volumnia: Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike,
and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I
had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than
one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I
had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than
one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
9.19.2013.12
Sicinius: Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
9.19.2013.11
Marcius: What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
9.19.2013.10
Hector: Most putrefied core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.
9.19.2013.9
Troilus: My love with words and errors still she feeds,
But edifies another with her deeds.
But edifies another with her deeds.
9.19.2013.8
Hector: There they stand yet, and modestly I think,
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all,
And that old common arbitrator, Time,
Will one day end it.
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all,
And that old common arbitrator, Time,
Will one day end it.
9.19.2013.7
Agamemnon: What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks
And formless ruin of oblivion;
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
And formless ruin of oblivion;
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
9.19.2013.6
Troilus: But something may be done that we will not:
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
9.19.2013.5
Diomedes: She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris:
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight
A Trojan hath been slain. Since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight
A Trojan hath been slain. Since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
9.19.2013.4
Ulysses: Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail
In monumental mockery.
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail
In monumental mockery.
9.19.2013.3
Cressida: but you are wise,
Or else you love not, for to be wise, and love,
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.
Or else you love not, for to be wise, and love,
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.
9.19.2013.1
Agamemnon: He that is proud eats up himself: pride
is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle:
and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the
deed in the praise.
is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle:
and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the
deed in the praise.
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