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Archive for August 14th, 2014

My credit is too low- bankruptcy

Weighs heavily on me like a ball of chain,

And each way-out I find it soon in vain-

Do I make for the sea of bankruptcy

With Chapter ‘Leven I might be afloat;

Yet ’tis a gentle luxury to weep

That I have not the cloudy winds to keep

But under Seven dash my brains direct

On this nagging ball of reputation?

Such are legal conundrums left by law:

Poor Shylock’s knife cannot cut them but draw

rebuke instead from the congregation.

Law thus dispenses relief worth a straw

But loath help him gain lost reputation.

Original Version:

On Seeing Elgin marbles

My spirit is too weak—mortality

   Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,

   And each imagined pinnacle and steep

Of godlike hardship tells me I must die

Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.

   Yet ’tis a gentle luxury to weep

   That I have not the cloudy winds to keep

Fresh for the opening of the morning’s eye.

Such dim-conceived glories of the brain

   Bring round the heart an undescribable feud;

So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,

   That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude

Wasting of old time—with a billowy main—

   A sun—a shadow of a magnitude.

benny

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Friends, Romans, countrymen,

Lend me your tears;

I will show a trick or two

Use them to ‘ffect.

What I do not feel I can with your tears

Buy me laurel of the dead as my own.

(Aside) I am their head and the mob

No head but emotions as slop.

The noble Brutus has told and you nod for all he said;

So You shall, but leave your hot tears for me.

Grievously shall it be a flood damm’d,

Till I rouse you to lend bitter tears.

Oh Judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts

Taken at the flood of the rabble!

Original Version:  Julius Caesar:  Act III sc.ii

Friends, Romans, countrymen,

Lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest–
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men–
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

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Sheldonia-8

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