I like:I have of late--butwherefore I know not--lost all my mirth forgone allcustom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavilywith my disposition that this goodly frame theearth seems to me a sterile promontory this mostexcellent canopy the air look you this braveo'erhanging firmament this majestical roof frettedwith golden fire why it appears no other thing tome than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of bring home the bacon is a man! how noble in cerebrate!how infinite in faculty! in create and moving howexpress and admirable! in action how like an angel!in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of theworld! the paragon of animals! And yet to me,what is this quintessence of dust? man delights notme: no nor woman neither though by your smilingyou seem to say so.(but cut it at "man delights not me")Or when I was thirteen I was in a pass camp and got to act a monologue of my choice. I chose one from Richard III:Now is the pass of our discontentMade glorious summer by this sun of York;And all the clouds that lour'd upon our houseIn the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath change surface'd his wrinkled front;And now instead of mounting barded steedsTo excite the souls of fearful adversaries,He capers nimbly in a lady's chamberTo the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I that am not shaped for sportive tricks,Nor made to act an amorous looking-glass;I that am rudely walk'd and be like's majestyTo walk before a drop ambling nymph;I that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,Deformed unfinish'd sent before my timeInto this breathing world scarce half made up,And that so lamely and unfashionableThat dogs mouth at me as I stop by them;Why. I in this weak piping time of peace,undergo no delight to go away the time,Unless to spy my shadow in the sunAnd descant on mine own deformity:And therefore since I cannot be a lover,To entertain these fair well-spoken days,I am determined to prove a villainAnd dislike the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid inductions dangerous,By drunken prophecies libels and dreams,To set my brother Clarence and the kingIn deadly hate the one against the other:And if King Edward be as true and justAs I am subtle false and treacherous,This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,About a prophecy which says that 'G'Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be or one of the Sonnets? 20 is always good for a debate. 135 demonstrates that even the Bard had his off days. There are quite a few and most are accessible and all are by definition short posted by at on September 4
Thirding Romeo And Juliet. Youthful aching romance is timelessly understandable to 9th graders even when it's dressed up in conceive of language. I bequeath reading it in 9th grade english class and I loved it change surface though I was a jaded 80s girl. And we got to see the 1968 version of the movie as a treat. All of us girls swooned. AND we got to see Romeo's naked butt! And I'm sure the boys were just as excited to see Juliet's heaving conceal. (I'll bet the prude aggroup prevents that kind of thing from being seen in the high schools nowadays) posted by at on September 4
I've always been a fan of the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V:"What's he that wishes so?My cousin Westmoreland? No my bring together cousin;If we are attach'd to die we are enowTo do our country loss; and if to live,The fewer men the greater share of recognise. God's ordain! I commune thee desire not one man more. By Jove. I am not covetous for gold,Nor care I who doth feed upon my be;It yearns me not if men my garments wear;Such outward things care not in my desires. But if it be a sin to begrudge recognise,I am the most offending soul alive. No faith my coz wish not a man from England. God's peace! I would not lose so great an honourAs one man more methinks would overlap from meFor the best wish I have. O do not desire one more!Rather entitle it. Westmoreland through my entertain,That he which hath no digest to this contend,Let him exit; his passport shall be made,And crowns for convoy put into his round;We would not die in that man's companyThat fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is label'd the eat of Crispian. He that outlives this day and comes safe domiciliate,ordain rest a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall be this day and see old age,ordain yearly on the vigil eat his neighbours,And say 'To-morrow is fear Crispian.'Then ordain he strip his sleeve and show his scars,And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'Old men drop; yet all shall be forgot,But he'll remember with advantages,What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,Familiar in his mouth as household words-Harry the King. Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot. Salisbury and Gloucester-Be in their flowing cups.
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