Shakespeherian Rag

But this rough magic I here abjure, and when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end on their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air; And like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind.

All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavor; treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have; but nature should bring forth Of its own kind all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people

It is the stars. The stars above us govern our conditions, Else one self mate and make could not beget Such different issues.

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt me more.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have wakened death, And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas Olympus high, and duck again as low As hell's from heaven!

Come, let's away to prison, we two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage. When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down and ask of thee forgiveness.

I have no way and therefore want no eyes. I stumbled when I saw.

I never gave you kingdom, called you children; you owe me no subscription. Then let fall your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave, a poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.

Oh sir, you are old. Nature in you stands on the very verge of his confine. You should be ruled and led by some discretion that discerns your state better than you yourself.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love my Majesty according to my bond, nor more no less.

So much against the mettle of your sex, so far beneath your soft and tender breeding, and since you called me "master" for so long, here is my hand. You shall from this time be your master's mistress

I say this house is as dark as ignorance, through ignorance were as dark as hell. And I say there was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are. Make the trial of it in any constant question.

What relish is in this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; if it be thus to dream, still let me sleep.

Why methinks 'tis time to smile again. O, how apt the poor are to be proud? If one should be a prey, how much the better to fall before the lion than the wolf.