Post on 19-Mar-2022
All's Well That Ends Well PAROLLES Are you meditating on virginity? HELENA Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? PAROLLES Keep him out. HELENA But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. PAROLLES There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up. HELENA Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men? PAROLLES Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with 't! HELENA I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. PAROLLES There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-‐love, which is the most inhibited sin in the
canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose by't: out with 't! within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: away with 't! HELENA How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? PAROLLES Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with 't while 'tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the tooth-‐pick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear: will you anything with it? HELENA Not my virginity yet There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother and a mistress and a friend, A phoenix, captain and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; His humble ambition, proud humility, His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-‐-‐ I know not what he shall. God send him well! The court's a learning place, and he is one-‐-‐
As You Like It CORIN And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone? TOUCHSTONE Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? CORIN No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? CORIN No, truly. TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damn'd. CORIN Nay, I hope. TOUCHSTONE Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-‐roasted egg, all on one side. CORIN For not being at court? Your reason. TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. CORIN Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.
Delila I saw the light on the night that I passed by her window I saw the flickering shadows of love on her blind She was my woman As she decieved me I watched and went out of my mind Why, why, why, Delila I could see that girl was no good for me But I was lost like a slave that no man could free At break of day when that man drove away, I was waiting I cross the street to her house and she opened the door She stood there laughing I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more Why, why, why Delilah So before they come to break down the door Forgive me Delilah I just couldn't take any more She stood there laughing I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more Why, why, why, Delilah So before they come to break down the door Forgive me Delilah I just couldn't take any more Forgive me Delilah I just couldn't take any more
Gettysburg address Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us —that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion —that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain —that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom —and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
A Satanic Prayer In nomine Dei Nostri Satanas. Introibo ad altare Domini Inferi. Before the mighty and ineffable Prince of Darkness, and in the presence of all the dread demons of the Pit, I proclaim that Satan rules the earth, and I ratify and renew my promise to recognize and honour Satan in all things, without reservation, desiring in return His manifold assistance in the successful completion of my endeavors and the fulfillment of my desires. Eva, Satanas! Vade Lilith, Deus maledictus est!! Gloria tibi! Domine Lucifere, per omnia saecula saeculorum. Rege Satanas! Bless me Satan, your humble messenger, and allow me to demonstrate through written record an instruction to pour the wages of Hell upon those believers and followers of Satanic Wisdom.
A Country Wife 2 LADY FIDGET How, you saucy fellow! would you wrong my honour? HARRY HORNER If I could. LADY FIDGET How d’ye mean, sir? SIR JASPER FIDGET Ha! ha! ha! no, he can’t wrong your ladyship’s honour, upon my honour. He, poor man—hark you in your ear—a mere eunuch. [Whispers. LADY FIDGET O filthy French beast! foh! foh! why do we stay? let’s be gone: I can’t endure the sight of him. Sir Jasp. Stay but till the chairs come; they’ll be here presently. LADY FIDGET No. SIR JASPER FIDGET Nor can I stay longer. ’Tis, let me see, a quarter and half quarter of a minute past eleven. The council will be sat; I must away. Business must be preferred always before love and ceremony with the wise, Mr. Horner. HARRY HORNER And the impotent, Sir Jasper. SIR JASPER FIDGET Ay, ay, the impotent, Master Horner; hah! hah! hah! LADY FIDGET What, leave us with a filthy man alone in his lodgings? SIR JASPER FIDGET He’s an innocent man now, you know. Pray stay, I’ll hasten the chairs to you.—Mr. Horner, your servant; I should be glad to see you at my house. Pray come and dine with me, and play at cards with my wife after dinner; you are fit for women at that game yet, ha! ha!—[Aside.] ’Tis as much a husband’s prudence to provide innocent diversion for a wife as to hinder her unlawful pleasures; and he had better employ her than let her employ herself.—[Aloud.] Farewell. HARRY HORNER Your servant, Sir Jasper. [Exit Sir Jasper. LADY FIDGET I will not stay with him, foh!— HARRY HORNER Nay, madam, I beseech you stay, if it be but to see I can be as civil to ladies yet as they would desire. LADY FIDGET No, no, foh! you cannot be civil to ladies.
A Hymn To Christ At The Author's Last Going Into Germany In what torn ship soever I embark, That ship shall be my emblem of thy Ark; What sea soever swallow me, that flood Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood; Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes, Which, though they turn away sometimes, They never will despise. I sacrifice this Island unto thee, And all whom I loved there, and who loved me; When I have put our seas 'twixt them and me, Put thou thy sea betwixt my sins and thee. As the tree's sap doth seek the root below In winter, in my winter now I go, Where none but thee, th' Eternal root Of true Love, I may know. Nor thou nor thy religion dost control The amorousness of an harmonious Soul, But thou wouldst have that love thyself: as thou Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now, Thou lov'st not, till from loving more, Thou free My soul: who ever gives, takes liberty: O, if thou car'st not whom I love Alas, thou lov'st not me. Seal then this bill of my Divorce to All, On whom those fainter beams of love did fall; Marry those loves, which in youth scattered be On Fame, Wit, Hopes (false mistresses) to thee. Churches are best for Prayer, that have least light: To see God only, I go out of sight: And to 'scape stormy days, I choose An Everlasting night.
A dialogue between Sir Henry Wootton and Mr. Donne SIR HENRY WOOTTON IF her disdain least change in you can move, You do not love, For when that hope gives fuel to the fire, You sell desire. Love is not love, but given free ; And so is mine ; so should yours be. JOHN DONNE Her heart, that weeps to hear of others' moan, To mine is stone. Her eyes, that weep a stranger's eyes to see, Joy to wound me. Yet I so well affect each part, As—caused by them—I love my smart. SIR HENRY WOOTTON Say her disdainings justly must be graced With name of chaste ; And that she frowns lest longing should exceed, And raging breed ; So her disdains can ne'er offend, Unless self-‐love take private end. JOHN DONNE 'Tis love breeds love in me, and cold disdain Kills that again, As water causeth fire to fret and fume, Till all consume. Who can of love more rich gift make, That to Love's self for love's own sake? I'll never dig in quarry of an heart To have no part, Nor roast in fiery eyes, which always are Canicular. Who this way would a lover prove, May show his patience, not his love. A frown may be sometimes for physic good, But not for food ; And for that raging humour there is sure A gentler cure. Why bar you love of private end, Which never should to public tend?
A Country Wife Enter Horner, and Quack following him at a distance. HARRY HORNER [aside]. A quack is as fit for a pimp, as a midwife for a bawd; they are still but in their way, both helpers of nature.—[Aloud.] Well, my dear doctor, hast thou done what I desired? QUACK I have undone you for ever with the women, and reported you throughout the whole town as bad as an eunuch, with as much trouble as if I had made you one in earnest. HARRY HORNER But have you told all the midwives you know, the orange wenches at the playhouses, the city husbands, and old fumbling keepers of this end of the town? for they’ll be the readiest to report it. QUACK I have told all the chambermaids, waiting-‐women, tire-‐women, and old women of my acquaintance; nay, and whispered it as a secret to ’em, and to the whisperers of Whitehall; so that you need not doubt ’twill spread, and you will be as odious to the handsome young women as— HARRY HORNER As the small-‐pox. Well— QUACK And to the married women of this end of the town, as— HARRY HORNER As the great one; nay, as their own husbands. QUACK And to the city dames, as aniseed Robin, of filthy and contemptible memory; and they will frighten their children with your name, especially their females. HARRY HORNER And cry, Horner’s coming to carry you away. I am only afraid ’twill not be believed. You told ’em it was by an English-‐French disaster, and an English-‐French chirurgeon, who has given me at once not only a cure, but an antidote for the future against that damned malady, and that worse distemper, love, and all other women’s evils? QUACK Your late journey into France has made it the more credible, and your being here a fortnight before you appeared in public, looks as if you apprehended the shame, which I wonder you do not. Well, I have been hired by young gallants to belie em t’ other way; but you are the first would be thought a man unfit for women. HARRY HORNER Dear Mr. Doctor, let vain rogues be contented only to be thought abler men than they are, generally ’tis all the pleasure they have; but mine lies another way. QUACK You take, methinks, a very preposterous way to it, and as ridiculous as if we operators in physic should put forth bills to disparage our medicaments, with hopes to gain customers.
HARRY HORNER Doctor, there are quacks in love as well as physic, who get but the fewer and worse patients for their boasting; a good name is seldom got by giving it one’s self; and women, no more than honour, are compassed by bragging. Come, come, Doctor, the wisest lawyer never discovers the merits of his cause till the trial; the wealthiest man conceals his riches, and the cunning gamester his play. Shy husbands and keepers, like old rooks, are not to be cheated but by a new unpractised trick: false friendship will pass now no more than false dice upon ’em; no, not in the city. Enter Boy. BOY There are two ladies and a gentleman coming up. HARRY HORNER A pox! some unbelieving sisters of my former acquaintance, who, I am afraid, expect their sense should be satisfied of the falsity of the report. No—this formal fool and women!
Ghost and Hamlet HAMLET I’ll go no farther, whither wilt thou leade me? GHOST Mark me. HAMLET I will. GHOST I am thy father’s spirit, doom’d for a time To walk the night, and all the day Confined in flaming fire, Till the foul crimes done in my days of Nature Are purged and burnt away. HAMLET Alas poor Ghost. GHOST Nay pity me not, but to my unfolding Lend thy list’ning ear, but that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house I would a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful Porpentine, But this same blazon must not be, to ears of flesh and blood Hamlet, if ever thou didst thy dear father love. HAMLET O God. GHOST Revenge his foul, and most unnatural murder: HAMLET Murder. GHOST Yea, murder in the highest degree, As in the least tis bad, But mine most foul, beastly, and unnatural. HAMLET Haste me to know it, that with wings as swift as meditation, or the thought of it, may sweep to my revenge.
GHOST O I find thee apt, and duller shouldst thou be Then the fat weed which roots itself in ease On Lethe wharf: brief let me be. Tis given out, that sleeping in my orchard, A Serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is with a forged Process of my death rankly abused: But know thou noble Youth: he that did sting Thy father’s heart, now wears his Crown.
I Saw A Little Birdie (Not a full audition piece, an optional extra if anyone fancies it!) Nunc avem caelestis video Et merda in oculo meo Est. Nolo clamare: Vaccae non volare Possunt; ergo gratias Deo. It is perfect if you don’t know Latin. Deliver it twice, using two emotions, eg, sad, happy, funny, despair, whatever
King John KING JOHN Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? CHATILLON Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France In my behavior to the majesty, The borrow'd majesty, of England here. QUEEN ELINOR A strange beginning: 'borrow'd majesty!' KING JOHN Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. CHATILLON Philip of France, in right and true behalf Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put these same into young Arthur's hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. KING JOHN What follows if we disallow of this? CHATILLON The proud control of fierce and bloody war, To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. KING JOHN Here have we war for war and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment: so answer France. CHATILLON Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, The farthest limit of my embassy. KING JOHN Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace: Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; For ere thou canst report I will be there, The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath And sullen presage of your own decay. An honourable conduct let him have: Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE
QUEEN ELINOR What now, my son! have I not ever said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world, Upon the right and party of her son? This might have been prevented and made whole With very easy arguments of love, Which now the manage of two kingdoms must With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. KING JOHN Our strong possession and our right for us. QUEEN ELINOR Your strong possession much more than your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me: So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear.
LADY PERCY O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offense have I this fortnight been A banished woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, And start so often when thou sit'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-‐eyed musing and cursed melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars, Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed, Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talked Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight. Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, And thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow Like bubbles in a late-‐disturbèd stream, And in thy face strange motions have appeared, Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Nixon's speech on the occasion of the loss of Apollo 11 Fate has ordained that the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace. These brave men, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin, know that there is no hope for their recovery. But they also know that there is hope for mankind in their sacrifice. These two men are laying down their lives in mankind's most noble goal: the search for truth and understanding. They will be mourned by their families and friends; they will be mourned by their nation; they will be mourned by the people of the world; they will be mourned by a Mother Earth that dared send two of her sons into the unknown. In their exploration, they stirred the people of the world to feel as one; in their sacrifice, they bind more tightly the brotherhood of man. In ancient days, men looked at stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood. Others will follow and surely find their way home. Man's search will not be denied. But these men were the first, and they will remain the foremost in our hearts. For every human being who looks up at the moon in the nights to come will know that there is some corner of another world that is forever mankind.
Orlando and Old Adam ORLANDO Who's there? ADAM What, my young master? O my gentle master! O my sweet master! O you memory Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not, master, to some kind of men Their graces serve them but as enemies? No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it! ORLANDO Why, what's the matter? ADAM O unhappy youth! Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives. Your brother-‐ no, no brother; yet the son-‐ Yet not the son; I will not call him son Of him I was about to call his father-‐ Hath heard your praises; and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie, And you within it. If he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off; I overheard him and his practices. This is no place; this house is but a butchery; Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. ORLANDO Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? ADAM No matter whither, so you come not here. ORLANDO What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food, Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road? This I must do, or know not what to do; Yet this I will not do, do how I can. I rather will subject me to the malice 680 Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Tempest Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-‐like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-‐John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-‐fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.
The Faerie Queen Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds, Am now enforst a far unfitter taske, For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds, And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds; Whose prayses having slept in silence long, Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds To blazon broad emongst her learned throng: Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song. Helpe then, O holy Virgin chiefe of nine, Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will, Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still, Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill, Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill, That I must rue his undeserved wrong: O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong. And thou most dreaded impe of highest Jove, Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart At that good knight so cunningly didst rove, That glorious fire it kindled in his hart, Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart, And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde: Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart, In loves and gentle jollities arrayd, After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd. And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright, Mirrour of grace and Majestie divine, Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine, Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne, And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile, To thinke of that true glorious type of thine, The argument of mine afflicted stile: The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred a-‐while.
The Lady's Not For Turning If our people feel that they are part of a great nation and they are prepared to will the means to keep it great, a great nation we shall be, and shall remain. So, what can stop us from achieving this? What then stands in our way? The prospect of another winter of discontent? I suppose it might. But I prefer to believe that certain lessons have been learned from experience, that we are coming, slowly, painfully, to an autumn of understanding. And I hope that it will be followed by a winter of common sense. If it is not, we shall not be diverted from our course. To those waiting with bated breath for that favourite media catchphrase, the "U" turn, I have only one thing to say. "You turn if you want to. The lady's not for turning." I say that not only to you but to our friends overseas and also to those who are not our friends. In foreign affairs we have pursued our national interest robustly while remaining alive to the needs and interests of others. Long before we came into office, and therefore long before the invasion of Afghanistan, I was pointing to the threat from the east. I was accused of scaremongering. But events have more than justified my words. Soviet Marxism is ideologically, politically and morally bankrupt. But militarily the Soviet Union is a powerful and growing threat.
The rime of the ancient mariner It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: May'st hear the merry din.' He holds him with his skinny hand, 'There was a ship,' quoth he. 'Hold off! unhand me, grey-‐beard loon!' Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye-‐-‐ The Wedding-‐Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-‐Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-‐eyed Mariner. 'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top. The Sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea.
The Tay Bridge Disaster Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay! Alas! I am very sorry to say That ninety lives have been taken away On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time. ’Twas about seven o’clock at night, And the wind it blew with all its might, And the rain came pouring down, And the dark clouds seem’d to frown, And the Demon of the air seem’d to say-‐ “I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.” When the train left Edinburgh The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow, But Boreas blew a terrific gale, Which made their hearts for to quail, And many of the passengers with fear did say-‐ “I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.” But when the train came near to Wormit Bay, Boreas he did loud and angry bray, And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time
W[viva] somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot tough because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands