Male: Classical: Dramatic

Clansmen of Cadmus, at the signal given By time and season must the ruler speak Who sets the course and steers the ship of State With hand upon the tiller, and with eye Watchful against the treachery of sleep. For if all go aright, thank Heaven, men say, But if adversely-which may God forefend!- One name on many lips, from street to street, Would bear the bruit and rumour of the time, Down witk Eteocles!-a clamorous curse, A dirge of ruin. May averting Zeus Make good his title here, in

Hermes, messenger to the dead, guardian of your father's powers, help rescue meâ€” work with me, I beg you, now I've come back, returned to this land from exile. On this grave, on this heaped-up earth, I call my father, imploring him to listen, to hear me . . . Here's a lock of hair, offering to Inachus, the stream where I was raised. Here's another, a token of my grief. I was not there, my father, to mourn your death. I couldn't stretch my hand out to you, when they carried off your corpse for burial. What's this I see? What's this crowd of women coming

High thanks, my children, unto Argos con, And to this folk, as to Olympian gods, Give offerings meet of sacrifice and wine; For saviours are they in good sooth to you. From me they heard, and bitter was their wrath, How those your kinsmen strove to work you wrong, And how of us were thwarted: then to me This company of spearmen did they grant, That honoured I might walk, nor unaware Die by some secret thrust and on this land Bring down the curse of death, that dieth not.

I pray the gods to quit me of my toils, To close the watch I keep, this livelong year; For as a watch-dog lying, not at rest, Propped on one arm, upon the palace-roof Of Atreus' race, too long, too well I know The starry conclave of the midnight sky, Too well, the splendours of the firmament, The lords of light, whose kingly aspect shows- What time they set or climb the sky in turn- The year's divisions, bringing frost or fire. And now, as ever, am I set to

O divine air Breezes on swift bird-wings, Ye river fountains, and of ocean-waves The multitudinous laughter Mother Earth! And thou all-seeing circle of the sun, Behold what I, a God, from Gods endure! Look down upon my shame, The cruel wrong that racks my frame, The grinding anguish that shall waste my strength, Till time's ten thousand years have measured out their length! He hath devised these chains, The new throned potentate who reigns, Chief of the chieftains of the Blest. Ah me! The woe which is and that which

Think not that I for pride and stubbornness Am silent: rather is my heart the prey Of gnawing thoughts, both for the past, and now Seeing myself by vengeance buffeted. For to these younger Gods their precedence Who severally determined if not I? No more of that: I should but weary you With things ye know; but listen to the tale Of human sufferings, and how at first Senseless as beasts I gave men sense, possessed them Of mind. I speak not in contempt of man; I do but tell

[Morosely] Devil take them all . . . take them all . . . They think I'm a doctor and can cure everything, and I know absolutely nothing, I've forgotten all I ever knew, I remember nothing, absolutely nothing. Devil take it. Last Wednesday I attended a woman in Zosip -- and she died, and it's my fault she died. Yes . . . I used to know a certain amount twenty-five years go, but I don't remember anything now. Nothing. Perhaps I'm not really a man, and am only pretending that I have arms and legs

Barbara's afraid we shall go and fall in love with each other. Day after day she never leaves us alone. With her narrow mind she cannot understand that we are above love. To avoid everything petty, everything illusory, everything that prevents one from being free and happy, that is the whole meaning and purpose of our life. Forward! We march on irresistibly towards that bright star which burns far, far before us! Forward! Don't tarry, comrades! All Russia is our garden. The earth is great and beautiful; it is full of wonderful places. [A pause] Think, Anya, your

Hm! . . . You talk of fame and happiness, of some brilliant interesting life; but for me all these pretty words, if I may say so, are just like marmalade, which I never eat. You are very young and very kind, but I don't know what is so delightful about my life. You have heard of obsessions, when a man is haunted day and night, say, by the idea of the moon or something? Well, I've got my moon. Day and night I am obsessed by the same persistent thought; I must write, I must write,

I have my own desk there in Ivan's room. When I'm simply too worn out to go on with my work, I drop everything and rush over here to forget myself in this pastime for an hour or two. Ivan Petrovitch and Sonya Alexandrovna rattle away at their counting frames, I feel warm and peaceful, the cricket chirps, and I sit near them at my table and paint. But I don't indulge in this luxury very often, only about once a month. [Pointing to a picture] Look! This is a survey map of our country as it

She is vexed at the idea of Nina ZarTtchnaya and not herself having a success even in this poor little theatre. She is a psychological curiosity, my mother. A clever and gifted woman, who can cry over a novel, will reel you off all Nekrßsof's poems by heart, and is the perfection of a sick nurse; but venture to praise Eleonora Duse before her! Oho! ho! You must praise nobody but her, write about her, shout about her, and go into ecstasies over her wonderful performance in La Dame aux CamTlias, or The Fumes of Life; but

The Professor as usual sits in his library from morning till night--

Yes, ten years have made another man of me. And why? Because I am overworked. Nurse, I am on my feet from morning until evening. I know no rest at all: at night I shake under my bedclothes for fear I'll be dragged out to visit some sick people. Ever since I've known you, I haven't had a single carefree day. How could I help growing old? Life is tedious, anyhow; it is a senseless, dirty business, and drags heavily. Every one in this neighborhood is silly, and after you live with them for two or three

I bought it. Wait a bit; don't hurry me; my head's in a whirl; I can't speak. . . . [Laughing] When we got to the sale, Derigßnof was there already. Leonfd AndrTyitch had only fifteen hundred pounds, and Derigßnof bid three thousand more than the mortgage right away. When I saw how things stood, I went for him and bid four thousand. He said four thousand five hundred. I said five thousand five hundred. He went up by five hundreds, you see, and I went up by thousands. . . . Well, it was soon over. I

Oh, what has become of my past and where is it? I used to be young, happy, clever, I used to be able to think and frame clever ideas, the present and the future seemed to me full of hope. Why do we almost before we have begun to live, become dull, gray, uninteresting, lazy, apathetic, useless, unhappy? . . . This town has already been in existence for two hundred years and it has a hundred thousand inhabitants, not one of whom is in any way different from the others. There has never been, now or at

Yes. [Laughs] How strange everything really is! [Pause] When the fire broke out, I hurried off home; when I get there I see the house is whole, uninjured, and in no danger, but my two girls are standing by the door in just their underclothes, their mother isn't there, the crowd is excited, horses and dogs are running about, and the girl's faces are so agitated, terrified, beseeching, and I don't know what else. My heart hurt me, when I saw those faces. My God, I thought, what these girls will have to put up with if they live

You can burn peat in your stoves and build your barns of stone. Oh, I don't object, of course, to cutting wood when you have to, but why destroy the forests? The woods of Russia are trembling under the blows of the ax. Millions of trees have perished. The homes of the wild animals and the birds have been laid desolate; the rivers are shrinking, and many beautiful landscapes are gone forever. And why? Because men are too lazy and short-sighted to stoop and pick their fuel from the ground. Am I not right? Who but a senseless

Mr. Herbot, I don't feel disposed to doubt your mood and, I take it, there is no question about mine. Don't let's go through a scene of high-sounding words. Mr. Herbot, we want, if possible--and to me it is possible--to talk like two men--no, let alone every vanity and every question of honor in the accepted sense, like two human beings. I ask you for the last time, Mr. Herbot, please to abandon the manner you have assumed thus far. I don't for a moment question the correctness of it. But please understand that a human being

Come in, and we'll talk. I heard you out there listening. It is late, but we must come to some decision. Sit down. [Pause] I have been at the post office tonight to get my letters. From these it appears that you have been keeping back my mail, both coming and going. The consequence of which is that the loss of time has as good as destroyed the result I expected from my work. In consequence of all this I have intercepted letters addressed to you. It appears from these letters that for some time past you

How silent everybody is! [Long silence] Here, for instance, in this respectable house, this attractive home, where beauty and erudition and wealth have joined hands. . . . [Long silence] All of us sitting here now--we know who we are, don't we? I don't need to tell. . . . And all of you know me, although you pretend ignorance. . . . In the next room is my daughter--mine, as you know perfectly well. She has lost the desire to live without knowing why. . . . The fact is that she has been pining away

My father died in a madhouse. . . . Like all of us, he was surrounded by a circle of acquaintances whom he called friends for the sake of convenience, and they were a lot of scoundrels, of course, as most people are. He had to have some society, however, as he couldn't sit all alone. As you know, no one tells people what he thinks of them under ordinary circumstances, and my father didn't do so either. He knew that they were false, and he knew the full extent of their perfidy, but, being a

Others have suffered to bring you happiness -- your mother; your father; your sweetheart; your sister -- sit down, and I'll tell you a story. -- It's very short. It happened about forty years ago. When a youth, I came to the Capitol -- alone, unknown and inexperienced -- to seek employment. I had only one riksdaler to my name. The night was dark, and as I knew of no cheap hotel, I questioned passers-by. None replied. When I was in the depths, a man stepped up to me and asked why I was weeping -- I

Well! It happened this way! I was a student at Lund and wanted a loan from the bank. I had no serious debts and my father had some money -- though not much. I had sent my note to the second man for his signature as my security, and, contrary to my expectations, it was returned with a refusal. -- I sat there for a moment, benumbed by the blow, for it was a disagreeable surprise, very disagreeable! -- The paper lay before me on the table and the letter lay near it. At first my eyes

You want to go to sleep, Jorghen, and I prefer to dream while still awake. To go to bed is to me like dying: to be swathed in linen sheets and stretched out in a long bed like a coffin. And then the corpse has the trouble of washing itself and reading its own burial service. I'm sure I'll cry like a child when my turn comes. If I only knew what death is! But how can we possibly know anything of that other life, when we know so little of this one? What is life

Do you know how people in high life look from the under world? No ... of course you don't. They look like hawks and eagles whose backs one seldom sees, for the soar up above. I lived in a hovel provided by the state, with seven brothers and sisters and a pig; out on a barren stretch where nothing grew, not even a tree, but from the window I could see the Count's park walls with apple trees rising above them. That was the garden of paradise; and there stood many angry angels with flaming swords protecting it;

I thought I heard the "little steps"--those little steps that came tripping down the corridor when she was looking for me. -- It was the child that was the best of all! To watch that fearless little creature, whom nothing could frighten, who never suspected that life might be deceptive, who had no secrets! I recall her first experience of the malice that is in human beings. She caught sight of a pretty child down in the park, and, though it was strange to her, she went up to it with open arms to kiss it--and the pretty

Look at these walls. Does it not look as if the wall-paper itself had been soiled by every conceivable sin? Look at these documents into which I write tales of wrong. Look at myself -- No smiling man ever comes here; nothing is to be seen here but angry glances, snarling lips,

If this be not revenge, when I have done And made it perfect, let Egyptian slaves, Parthians, and bare-foot Hebrews brand my face, And print my body full of injuries. Thou lost thyself, child Drusus, when thou thoughtst Thou couldst outskip my vengeance; or outstand The power I had to crush thee into air. Thy follies now shall taste what kind of man They have provoked, and this thy father's house Crack in the flame of my incensed rage, Whose fury shall admit no shame or mean.â€”â€” Adultery! it is the lightest ill I will commit A race of wicked acts Shall flow

We cannot but commend thy piety, Most loved Sejanus, in acknowledging Those bounties; which we, faintly, such rememberâ€”â€” But to thy suit. The rest of mortal men, In all their drifts and counsels, pursue profit; Princes alone are of a different sort, Directing their main actions still to fame: We therefore will take time to think and answer. For Livia she can best, herself, resolve If she will marry, after Drusus, or Continue in the family; besides, She hath a mother, and a grandam yet, Whose nearer counsels she may guide her by: But I will simply deal. That enmity Thou fear'st in Agrippina,

What excellent fools Religion makes of men! Believes Terentius, If these were dangers, as I shame to think them, The gods could change the certain course of fate! Or, if they could they would, now in a moment, For a beeve's fat, or less, be bribed to invert Those long decrees? Then think the gods, like flies, Are to be taken with the steam of flesh, Or blood, diffused about their altars: think Their power as cheap as I esteem it small.â€”â€” Of all the throng that fill th' Olympian hall, And, without pity, lade poor Atlas' back, I know not that

When I was young, he lived not in the stews, Durst have conceived a scorn, and uttered it On a gray head; age was authority Against a buffoon; and a man had then A certain reverence paid unto his years, That had none due unto his life. So much The sanctity of some prevailed for others. But now, we all are fall'n: youth, from their fear; And age from that which bred it, good example. Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even parents, That did destroy the hopes in our own children; Or they not learned our vices in

Paid subordinates! What! you are my paid subordinate, are you? Oh yes, I had forgotten the salary! Well then, on that mercenary ground, will you agree to let me hector a little? Most things free-born will submit to anything for a salary; therefore, keep to yourself, and don't venture on

Ah, fair Zenocrate!--divine Zenocrate! Fair is too foul an epithet for thee,-- That in thy passion for thy country's love, And fear to see thy kingly father's harm, With hair dishevell'd wip'st thy watery cheeks; And, like to Flora in her morning's pride,

Ah, Faustus. Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damn'd perpetually! Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul! O lente, lente currite, noctis equi! The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. O, I'll leap up to my God!--Who pulls me down?-- See, see,

In thee, thou valiant man of Persia, I see the folly of thy emperor. Art thou but captain of a thousand horse, That, by characters graven in thy brows And by thy martial face and stout aspect, Deserv'st to have the leading of an

Now, Guise, begin those deep-engender'd thoughts To burst abroad those never-dying flames Which cannot be extinguished but by blood. Oft have I levell'd, and at last have learn'd That peril is the chiefest way to happiness, And resolution honour's fairest aim.

She wolfe of France, but worse than Wolues of France: Whose tongue more poison'd than the Adders tooth How ill beseeming is it in thy sexe, To triumph like an Amazonian trull Vpon his woes, whom Fortune captiuates? But that thy face is visard

So that of thus much that return was made; And of the third part of the Persian ships There was the venture summ'd and satisfied. As for those Samnites, and the men of Uz, That brought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece, Here have I purs'd their paltry silverlings. Fie, what a trouble 'tis to count this trash! Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay The things they traffic for with wedge of gold, Whereof a man may easily in a day Tell that which may maintain him all his life. The needy groom, that never finger'd groat, Would make

Villain, art thou the son of Tamburlaine, And fear'st to die, or with a curtle-axe To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound? Has thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse, Whose shatter'd limbs,

It began oddly. You know I was wild after she died; and eternally, from dawn to dawn, praying her to return to me her spirit! I have a strong faith in ghosts: I have a conviction that they can, and do, exist among us! The day she was buried, there came a fall of snow. In

She abandoned them under a delusion, picturing in me a hero of romance, and expecting unlimited indulgences from my chivalrous devotion. I can hardly regard her in the light of a rational creature, so obstinately has she persisted in forming a fabulous notion of my character and acting on the

Men aren't so bad-looking, you know. And I'm not a particularly handsome specimen! Believe me, Daisy! (He turns around). Daisy! Daisy! Where are you Daisy?...

For Christ's sake, Papa, forget it!....Yes, she moves above and beyond us, a ghost haunting the past, and here we sit pretending to forget....

It ain't no use, Drisc. I ain't got a chance, but I ain't scared. I was just thinkin' it ain't as bad as people thinkdyin'. I ain't never took much stock in the truck them sky-pilots preach. I ain't never had religion; but I know whatever it is what comes after it can't

That last night I had driven myself crazy trying to figure someway out for her. I went in the bedroom. I was gonna tell her it was the end. But I couldn't do that to her. She was sound asleep. I thought, if she'd never wake up, she'd never know....."

Why omit me from your Who's Who in Dipsomania, Larry? An unpardonable slight, especially as I am the only inmate of royal blood. (to Parritt - rambling) Educated at Harvard, too..."

You remember when the crash came? We were all in the salon. You were singinga Cockney song I think? You were very beautiful. I remember a woman on my right saying: “How pretty she is! I wonder if she is married?” Strange how some idiotic remark like that will stick

'Tis easy to be eloquent, for him That's skilled in speech, and hath a stirring theme. Thou hast the flowing tongue as of a wise man, But there's no wisdom in thy fluent words; For the bold demagogue, powerful in speech, Is but a dangerous citizen lacking sense. This the new deity thou laugh'st to scorn, I may not say how mighty he will be Throughout all Hellas. Youth! there are two things Man's primal need, Demeter, the boon Goddess (Or rather will ye call her Mother Earth?), With solid food maintains the race of man. He, on the other

By a fair semblance to deceive the world, Wherefore, O Jove, beneath the solar beams That evil, woman, didst thou cause to dwell? For if it was thy will the human race Should multiply, this ought not by such means To be effected: better

Far other things appear when nigh, than seen At distance. I indeed embrace my fortune, In thee my father found. But hear what now Wakes sad reflections. Proud of their high race Are your Athenians, natives of the land, Not drawn from foreign lineage: I to them Shall come unwelcome, in two points defective, My father not a native, and myself Of spurious birth: loaded with this reproach, If destitute of power, I shall be held Abject and worthless: should I rush among The highest order of the state, and

Great Zeus, why didst thou, to man's sorrow, put woman, evil counterfeit, to dwell where shines the sun? If thou wert minded that the human race should multiply, it was not from women they should have drawn their stock, but in thy temples they should have paid gold or iron or ponderous bronze and bought a family, each man proportioned to his offering, and so in independence dwelt, from women free. But now as soon as ever we would bring this plague into our home we bring its fortune to

In reverence to thy age I dread to speak What I well know must pierce thy heart with grief. I am unholy in my mother's death, But holy, as my father I avenged. The veneration due to those grey hairs Strikes me with awe: else I could urge my plea Freely and boldly; but thy years dismay me. What could I do? Let fact be weighed with fact. My father was the author of my being; Thy daughter brought me forth: he gave me life, Which she but fostered: to the higher cause A higher reverence then I deemed was due. Thy

Lady, we by thy husband are betrayed, For I with thee am grieved, with contrived fraud Insulted, from thy father's house cast forth. I speak not this in hatred to thy lord, But that I love thee more: a stranger he Came to the city and thy royal house, And wedded thee, all thy inheritance Receiving, by some other woman now Discover'd to have children privately: How privately I'll tell thee: when he saw Thou hadst no child, it pleased him not to bear A fate like thine; but by

Lo! I am come to this land of Thebes, Dionysus' the son of Zeus, of whom on a day Semele, the daughter of Cadmus, was delivered by a flash of lightning. I have put off the god and taken human shape, and so present myself at Dirce's springs and the waters of Ismenus. Yonder I see my mother's monument where the bolt slew her nigh her house, and there are the ruins of her home smouldering with the heavenly flame that blazeth still-Hera's deathless outrage on my mother. To Cadmus

O friends, whatsoever may be thought by others, to me it seems that my wife's fate is happier than mine. Now, no pain ever shall touch her again; she has reached the noble end of all her sufferings. But I, I who should have died, I have escaped my fate, only to drag out a wretched life. Only now do I perceive it. How shall I summon strength to enter this house? Whom shall I greet? Who will greet me in joy at my coming? Whither shall I turn my

O my babes, my babes, ye have still a city and a home, where far from me and my sad lot you will live your lives, reft of your mother for ever; while I must to another land in banishment, or ever I have had my joy of you, or lived to see you happy, or ever I have graced your marriage couch, your bride, your bridal bower, or lifted high the wedding torch. Ah me! a victim of my own self-will. So it was all in vain I reared

Things at a distance wear not the same semblance As when on them we fix a closer view. I certainly with gratitude embrace My better fortunes, having found in you A father. But whence rose my anxious thoughts Now hear: in Athens, I am

When we had entered yonder rocky abode, he lighted first a fire, throwing logs of towering oak upon his spacious hearth, enough for three wagons to carry as their load; next, close by the blazing flame, he placed his couch of pine-boughs laid upon the floor, and filled a bowl of some ten firkins, pouring white milk thereinto, after he had milked his kine; and by his side he put a can of ivy-wood, whose breadth was three cubits and its depth four maybe; next he set his brazen pot

The sooner the better. I don't belong here. Let them kick each other to bits. I'll shut the door behind me and walk away into freedom. Why should I let them push me about?...."

Well, so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse is a person of education and an officers daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education.

Why have you come to me, tell me that, please? Why have you come? Answer, answer! I'll tell you, my good girl, why you have come. You've come because I talked sentimental stuff to you then. So now you are soft as butter and longing for fine sentiments again. So you may as well

I am dying...of love...That is how it is.... I loved her so!...And I love her still...daroga...and I am dying of love for her, I...I tell you!...If you knew how beautiful she was... when she let me kiss her...alive...It was the first...time, daroga, the first...time I ever kissed a woman.... Yes,

If one man in all the world can be found, now or forever, to know that you did wrong, that man will have either to conquer the world as I have, or be crucified by it. [The uproar in the streets again reaches them.] Do you hear? These knockers at your gate are also believers in vengeance and in stabbing. You have slain their leader: it is right that they shall slay you. If you doubt it, ask your four counsellors here. And then in the name of that right [he emphasizes the word with great

You, Tavy, are an artist: that is, you have a purpose as absorbing and as unscrupulous as a woman's purpose.... The true artist will let his wife starve, his children go barefoot, his mother drudge for his living at seventy, sooner than work at anything but his art. To women he is half vivisector, half vampire. He gets into intimate relations with them to study them, to strip the mask of convention from them, to surprise their inmost secrets, knowing that they have the power to rouse his deepest creative energies, to rescue him from his cold

My father was a boilermaster. We lived hard by the factory and our windows gave on the factory yard. I saw a good many things there. There was a workingman, for instance, who had worked in the factory for five years. He began to have a violent cough and to lose flesh . . . I recall how my father told us about the man at table. His name was Burmeister and he was threatened with pulmonary consumption if he worked much longer in the soap factory. The doctor had told him so. But the man had

It's horrible enough, but I shall tell you the whole story. First, though, you must get me some food, and light the fire. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm cold. Yes, yes, I shall tell you the whole story. But you must promise not to tell a soul. You will make a bargain with me, Dr.

This isn't a war. It never was a war, any more than there's war between man and ants. There's the ants builds their cities, live their lives, have wars, revolutions, until the men want them out of the way, and then they go out of the way. That's what we are now--just ants.

I didn't get you here to argue with you. I sent for you to tell you that the Indian Girl must be ready to sail the day after tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, do you hear? At the same time as our own ship; not an hour later. I have my reasons for hurrying the affair. Have you read this morning's paper? Ah!--then you know that the Americans have been making disturbances again. The ruffianly crew turn the whole town topsy-turvy. Not a night passes without fights in the taverns or on the street; not to speak

I find I can talk to you as I can to no one else; I shall conceal nothing from you. I had my share in spreading the rumour. You must not condemn me without remembering how matters stood at the time. As I told you yesterday, I came home to find my mother involved in a whole series of foolish undertakings. Disasters of various kinds followed; all possible ill-luck seemed to crowd upon us; our house was on the verge of ruin. I was half reckless and half in despair. Lona, I believe it was principally to

[Speaking beside a grave.] Now, when the soul has gone to meet its doom, And here the dust lies, like an empty pod,-- Now, my dear friends, we'll speak a word or two About this dead man's pilgrimage on earth. He was not wealthy,

Come and live with us--in the villa. You can set your swans swimming in the brook ... we can talk of old times ... you can open all that is locked up in me--as you did in our days of creation. I beg of you, Irene--give me this one chance to live my life over again. Help me undo

Now, when the soul has gone to meet its doom, And here the dust lies, like an empty pod,-- Now, my dear friends, we'll speak a word or two About this dead man's pilgrimage on earth. He was not wealthy, neither was he wise, His voice was weak, his bearing was unmanly, He spoke his mind abashed and faltering, He scarce was master at his own fireside; He sidled into church, as though appealing For leave, like other men, to take his place. It was from Gudbrandsdale, you know, he came. When here he settled he was but a lad;-- And you

When I first found you ... I knew at once I would make use of you for my life's work. You were what I required in every respect. I was young then--with no knowledge of the world--and I thought that The Resurrection would be most beautifully rendered as an innocent young

After leaving the house with Marheyo, we struck across the valley, and ascended the opposite heights. Just beyond them, my guide informed me, lay the valley of Happar, while along their summits, and skirting the head of the vale, was my route to Nukuheva. After mounting a little way up the elevation my guide paused, and gave me to understand that he could not accompany me any farther, and by various signs intimated that he was afraid to approach any nearer the territories of the enemies of his tribe. He

And what dost thou want of Captain Ahab? It's all right enough; thou art shipped.....I don't think thou wilt be able to see him at present. I don't know exactly what's the matter with him; but he keeps close inside the house; a sort of sick, and yet he don't look so. In fact, he ain't sick; but no, he isn't well either. Any how, young man, he won't always see me, so I don't suppose he will thee. He's a queer man, Captain Ahab--so some think--but a good one.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of

Now, men, as we are just off a six months' cruise, and have got through most all our work in port here, I suppose you want to go ashore. Well, I mean to give your watch liberty today, so you may get ready as soon all you please, and go; but understand this, I am going to give you liberty because I suppose you would growl like so many old quarter gunners if I didn't; at the same time, if you'll take my advice, every mother's son of you will

Brilliance; I'll tell you what that was, at least for me. I wrote several things that people called "brilliant." One in particular, a little play of decadent epigram. It was acted by amateurs before an admiring "select" audience. That was when I was twenty-one. From about sixteen on I had

We never learn to know each other fully. I am not a poet, but I understand Isabel's heart better than you do. There was a time when I felt my Carmen's love grow cold, as Isabel does yours. Her spirit was dreamy, ambitious, while our life was prosaic indeed. I am a man so blind to idealities that it seems to me a crime not only to dream, but to sleep, unless the provision for the morrow is assured. My one thought was to work--for the sake of my wife and my children, naturally; but work, which

You ought to have killed me. That was the first time in my life that I was ever afraid. I never expected they would let Norbert go. I told you that we ought to go into court and have Acacia testify that Norbert had sworn he was going to kill Faustino, but you wouldn't listen. We could have got others, too, to say the same. Then it would have been easy; they never would have let him go. I know I made a fool of myself, but when I saw that Norbert was free, that the

In misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on the face of the earth, and now imprisoned! That gracious, ill-starred creature shut in a dungeon as a criminal, and given up to fearful torments! To this has it come! to this!--Treacherous, contemptible spirit, and thou hast concealed it from me!--Stand, then,--stand!

Fool that I am, I have undone my self, And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round, That was a fair one: I have childishly Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it, And now too late I mourn for't; O Spaconia! Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now, Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow, To wither my desires? But wretched fool, Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me, To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou

If it please your lordship and members of the jury. I am not going to dispute the fact that the prisoner altered this cheque, but I am going to put before you evidence as to the condition of his mind, and to submit that you would not be justified in finding that he was responsible for his actions at the time. I am going to show you, in fact, that he did this in a moment of aberration, amounting to temporary insanity, caused by the violent distress under which he was labouring. Gentlemen, the prisoner is only

Let 'em come and find me. I've had enough o' this tryin' for work. Why should I go round and round after a job like a bloomin' squirrel in a cage. "Give us a job, sir"--"Take a man on"--"Got a wife and three children." Sick of it I am! I'd sooner lie here and rot. "Jones, you come and join the demonstration; come and 'old a flag, and listen to the ruddy orators, and go 'ome as empty as you came." There's some that seems to like that--the sheep! When I go seekin' for a job now,

Ye best know whether the condition of the Company is any better than the condition of the men. Ye best know whether ye can afford your tyranny--but this I tell ye: If ye think the men will give way the least part of an inch, ye're making the worst mistake ye ever made. Ye think because the Union is not supporting us--more shame to it!--that we'll be coming on our knees to you one fine morning. Ye think because the men have got their wives an' families to think of--that it's just a question of a week

We have been made the subject of an attack. [Looking round at WILDER and SCANTLEBURY with ironical contempt.] I take it on my shoulders. I am seventy-six years old. I have been Chairman of this Company since its inception two-and-thirty years ago. I have seen it pass

You don't want to hear me, then? You'll listen to Rous and to that old man, but not to me. You'll listen to Sim Harness of the Union that's treated you so fair; maybe you'll listen to those men from London? Ah! You groan! What for? You love their feet on your necks, don't

Well, Miss, 'ere we are, everything ship-shape, like they say. Great thing to 'ave, a lyedy, with clean 'abits. Sets me a good example. A man alone, 'e gets to livin' like a bloomin' og. Then, too, with me, it's always -- put things orf.....

Up to the day I killed my father, there wasn't a person in Ireland knew the kind I was, and I there drinking, waking, eating, sleeping, a quiet, simple poor fellow with no man giving me heed. And I after toiling, moiling, digging, dodging from the dawn till dusk with never a sight of joy or sport saving only when I'd be abroad in the dark night poaching rabbits on hills, for I was a devil to poach. I'd be as happy as the sunshine of St. Martin's Day, watching the light passing the north or the

The devil mend Mary Doul for putting lies on me, and letting on she was grand. The devil mend the old Saint for letting me see it was lies. The devil mend Timmy the smith for killing me with hard work, and keeping me with an empty, windy stomach in me, in the day and in the night. Ten thousand devils mend the soul of Molly Byrne and the bad, wicked souls is hidden in all the women of the world. [He rocks himself, with his hand over his face.] It's lonesome I'll be from this day, and

Hands off, I say! Stay then, and every devil may come to hear, And heaven may have it's laugh! I ever speak As if there were a Something there to listen: The shadow of the little mind, grotesque, Confident, helpless, thrown upon the clouds To serve him for a god. And I have sworn There is no God. --Ah, but there should be one! There should be one. And there's the bitterness Of this unending torture-place for men; For the proud soul who craves a Perfectness That might out-wear the rotting of all things Rooted in earth, that bloom so piercing

I saw thee first, Ay, from the first day when you cheated them With tales of old acquaintance, and made fond, And charmed the eyes of her, and took her heart, But for a whim. --Oh, I was not far off! Tho' you had made me a butt before them all, And turned her favor from the laughing-stock. Nothing to you it was! --All other folk,-- Their homes, so many ant-hills! -- All the world A show for you, a cheaper show than yours;-- A pageant wagon,--with the people, here, And overhead, their angels and their God, Another show! --And you to

You should see her. Little temptress. Black hair. Eyes as dark as night. And her smile! So … bewitching! Like the devil’s bride! Like Eve, holding the apple! Her eyes sparkling! Just daring you! Laughing! ...."

You’re a fake—that’s what you are. An impostor. You talk about your book—your great success. And it’s true, there isn’t a newspaper or journal to be found in which you and your book aren’t favorably mentioned. Everyone loves you. You’re the man of the hour! Who remembers me? No one...."

A superior?! Superior?! No! By heaven, which he Holds, and the abyss, and the immensity Of worlds and life, which I hold with himNo! I have a Victortrue; but no superior. Homage he has from allbut none from me:

From my youth upwards My Spirit walked not with the souls of men, Nor looked upon the earth with human eyes; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine; My joysmy griefsmy passionsand my powers,

I saw, that is, I dreamed myself Herehereeven where we are, guests as we were, Myself a host that deemed himself but guest, Willing to equal all in social freedom;

No light, save yon faint gleam which shows me walls Which never echo'd but to sorrow's sounds, The sigh of long imprisonment, the step Of feet on which the iron clank'd the groan Of death, the imprecation of despair! And yet for this I have

Thou false fiend, thou liest! My life is in its last hourthat I know, Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; I do not combat against Death, but thee And thy surrounding angels; my past power Was purchased by no compact with thy

Ye, though you know and feel our mutual mass Of many wrongs, even ye are ignorant What fatal poison to the springs of Life, To human ties, and all that's good and dear, Lurks in the present institutes of Venice: All these men were

The judge and his late wife never had any children. The judge and his wife were past middle age when this treasure fell into their lap. One must make allowances for a parental instinct that has been starving for twenty-five or thirty years. It is famished, it is crazed with hunger

I expected this reception. All men hate the wretched. How, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to

Alas! my dear Arbates, if for a while I defied the power of Love, he takes now full vengeance! If you but knew what sufferings are torturing my heart, even you would wish that I had never loved. For see where my destiny leads me! She whom I so ardently love is the Princess of

Madam, all minds are not gifted with the necessary qualities which the delicacy of those fine sciences called abstruse require. There are some so material that they cannot conceive what others understand most easily. There is nothing more agreeable, Madam, than all the great promises of these sublime sciences. To

No, I am not a revered doctor, brother; no, all the knowledge of this world has not found its abode in me. I have merely the science of discerning truth from falsehood. And as I know nothing in the world so noble and so beautiful as the holy fervour of genuine piety, so there is nothing,

Our love for the beauty which is eternal, stifles not in us love for that which is fleeting and temporal; and we can easily be charmed with the perfect works Heaven has created. Its reflected attractions shine forth in such as you; but it is in you alone that its choicest wonders

Hester ... I ask not wherefore, nor how, thou hast fallen into the pit, or say rather, thou hast ascended to the pedestal of infamy, on which I found thee. The reason is not far to seek. It was my folly, and thy weakness. I,a man of thought,the book-worm

Vera, the Nihilist in Moscow! O God, were it not better to die at once the dog's death they plot for me than to live as I live now! Never to sleep, or, if I do, to dream such horrid dreams that hell itself were peace when matched with them. To trust none but those I have bought, to buy none worth trusting! To see a traitor in every smile, poison in every dish, a dagger in every hand! To lie awake at night, listening from hour to hour

I am amorous of thy body, Iokanaan! Thy body is white, like the lilies of the field that the mower hath never mowed. Thy body is white like the snows that lie on the mountains of Judaea, and come down into the valleys. The roses in the gardens of the Queen of Arabia are not so white

Peace! Speak not to me! Salome, I pray thee be not stubborn. I have ever been kind toward thee. I have ever loved thee. It may be that I have loved thee too much. Therefore ask not this thing of me. This is a terrible thing, an awful thing to ask of me. Surely, thou art jesting. The head of a man ... cut from his body ... is ill to look upon. It is not meet that the eyes of a virgin should look upon such a thing. What

Well, well, so be it. I would have wished for fuller converse with you, My new friend, my honourable guest, But that it seems may not be. And besides,

I will speak, if I can, whose sorrow rising still Clouds its own utterance. My liege, my son, Don Lope, loved a lady here; seduced her By no feign'd vows of marriage, but compell'd By me, who would not listen to a suit Without my leave contracted, put it off From day to day, until the lady, tired Of a delay that argued treachery, Engaged her brother in the quarrel; who With two companions set upon my son One night to murder him. The lad, whose metal Would never brook affront, nor cared for odds, Drew on all three; slew one--a homicide That

"Once more the storm has roar'd itself away, Splitting the crags of God as it retires; But sparing still what it should only blast, This guilty piece of human handiwork, And all that are within it. Oh, how oft, How oft, within or here abroad, have I Waited, and in the whisper of my heart Pray'd for the slanting hand of heaven to strike The blow myself I dared not, out of fear Of that Hereafter, worse, they say, than here, Plunged headlong in, but, till dismissal waited, To wipe at last all sorrow from men's eyes, And make this heavy dispensation

Evil minds Change good to their own nature. I gave all He has; and in return he chains me here Years, ages, night and day: whether the Sun Split my parched skin, or in the moony night The crystal-winged snow cling round my hair:

O rage! O despair! O inimical old age! Have I then lived so long only for this disgrace? And have I grown grey in warlike toils, only to see in one day so many of my laurels wither? Does my arm--which all Spain admires and looks up to--does my arm, which has so often saved this empire, and so often strengthened anew the throne of its king, now betray my cause, and do nothing for me? O cruel remembrance of my bygone glory! O work of a lifetime effaced in a day! New dignity fatal to my

[Led by a young boy] Princes of Thebes, we have come with linked steps, both served by the eyes of one; for thus, by a guide's help, the blind must walk. Thou standest on fate's fine edge. If thou wouldst learn the meaning of my words, heed the warnings of mine art. As I took my place on mine old seat of augury, where all birds have been wont to gather within my ken, I heard a strange voice among them; they were screaming with dire, feverish rage, that drowned their language in jargon; and I knew that

Ah, fierce full oft, and grievous not in name alone, have been the labours of these hands, the burdens borne upon these shoulders! But no toil ever laid on me by the wife of Zeus or by the hateful Eurystheus was like unto this thing which the daughter of Oeneus, fair and false, hath fastened upon my back,- this woven net of the Furies, in which I perish! Glued to my sides, it hath eaten my flesh to the inmost parts; it is ever with me, sucking the channels of

Ah, who would have supposed it possible The name I bear should ever be attuned To these misfortunes! Doubly, trebly now May I lament; so sore bested am I;

Aiai! Who ever would have thought my name Would harmonise so aptly with my woes? For now well may I wail that sound out twice, Yea thrice; such woeful destinies are mine, Whose father from this land of Ida won Fame's noblest guerdon over the whole host, And crowned with praises only sailed back home; But I, his son, who to the self-same Troy Came after him, in might no less than he, Nor rendering meaner service by my deeds, Dishonoured by the Argives perish thus. Yet this methinks I

Alas! how hateful to the gods, How very poor a wretch must I be then, That Greece should never hear of woes like mine! But they who sent me hither, they concealed them, And smile triumphant, whilst my cruel wounds Grow deeper still. O, sprung from great Achilles! Behold before thee Poeas' wretched son, With whom, a chance but thou hast heard, remain The dreadful arrows of renowned Alcides, E'en the unhappy Philoctetes- him Whom the Atreidae and the vile Ulysses Inhuman left, distempered as I was By the envenomed

And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish. Now my imaginings have gone so far. Who has a higher claim that thou to hear My tale of dire adventures? Listen then. My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and My mother Merope, a Dorian; And I was held the foremost citizen, Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed, Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred. A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine, Shouted "Thou art not true son of thy sire." It irked me, but I stomached

I am the son of Polybus, who reigns At Corinth, and the Dorian Merope His queen; there long I held the foremost rank, Honoured and happy, when a strange event (For strange it was, though little meriting The deep concern I felt) alarmed me

O front of impudence! Which thinkest thou Now to defile--My grey hairs, or thine own? Who hast spit forth out of thy mouth at me Murders and marriages and accidents, Which to my grief, not of free will, I suffered; Such was the will

Sirs, the vessel of our state, after being tossed on wild waves, hath once more been safely steadied by the gods: and ye, out of all the folk, have been called apart by my summons, because I knew, first of all, how true and constant was your reverence for the royal power of Laius;

Thou worst of men, thou vile artificer Of fraud most infamous, what hast thou done? How have I been deceived? Dost thou not blush To look upon me, to behold me thus Beneath thy feet imploring? Base betrayer! To rob me of my bow, the means of life, The only means- give 'em, restore 'em to me! Do not take all Alas Alas! he hears me not, Nor deigns to speak, but casts an angry look That says I never shall be free again. O mountains, rivers, rocks, and savage

Thus then it was. Soon as Achilles died, Phoenix, the guardian of his tender years, Instant sailed forth, and sought me out at Scyros; With him the wary chief Ulysses came. They told me then (or true or false I know not), My father dead, by me, and me alone Proud Troy must fall. I yielded to their prayers; I hoped to see at least the dear remains Of him whom living I had long in vain Wished to behold. Safe at Sigeum's port Soon we arrived. In crowds the

What's done was well done. Thou canst never shake My firm belief. A truce to argument. For, had I sight, I know not with what eyes I could have met my father in the shades, Or my poor mother, since against the twain I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone. Aye, but, ye say, the sight of children joys A parent's eyes. What, born as mine were born? No, such a sight could never bring me joy; Nor this fair city with its battlements, Its temples and the statues

Ye pray; 'tis well, but would ye hear my words And heed them and apply the remedy, Ye might perchance find comfort and relief. Mind you, I speak as one who comes a stranger To this report, no less than to the crime; For how unaided could I track it far Without a clue? Which lacking (for too late Was I enrolled a citizen of Thebes) This proclamation I address to all:-- Thebans, if any knows the man by whom Laius, son of Labdacus, was slain, I summon him to

Yea, Oedipus, my sovereign lord and king, Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege Thy palace altars--fledglings hardly winged, And greybeards bowed with years, priests, as am I Of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth. Meanwhile, the common folk, with wreathed boughs Crowd our two market-places, or before Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where Ismenus gives his oracles by fire. For, as thou seest thyself, our ship of State, Sore buffeted, can no more lift her head, Foundered beneath a weltering surge of blood. A blight

Yea, this, my son, should by thy heart's fixed law--in all things to obey thy father's will. 'Tis for this that men pray to see dutiful children grow up around them in their homes--that such may requite their father's foe with evil, and honour, as their father doth, his friend. But

Your prayers are heard: and if you will obey Your king, and hearken to his words, you soon Shall find relief; myself will heal your woes. I was a stranger to the dreadful deed, A stranger e'en to the report till now; And yet

My Infelice's face: her brow, her eye, The dimple on her cheek, and such sweet skill Hath from the cunning workman's pencil flown, These lips look fresh and lively as her own, Seeming to move and speak. 'Las! Now I see The reason why fond women love to buy Adulterate complexion: here 'tis read False colours last after the true be dead. Of all the roses grafted on her cheeks, Of all the graces dancing in her eyes, Of all the music set upon her tongue, Of all that

I am a villain, if I apprehend But such a thought! Then, to attempt the deed-- Slave, thou art damned without redemption! I'll drive away this passion with a song. A song! Ha, ha! A song! As if, fond man, Thy eyes could swim in laughter when thy soul Lies drenched and drownÃ©d in red tears of blood! I'll pray, and see if God within my heart Plant better thoughts. Why, prayers are meditations, And when I meditate (O, God forgive me!) It is on her divine perfections. I will forget her; I will arm myself Not t' entertain a thought of

Pursued with horror of a guilty soul, And with the sharp scourge of repentance lashed, I fly from mine own shadow. O my stars! What have my parents in their lives deserved, That you should lay this penance on their son? When I but think of Master Frankford's love, And lay it to my treason, or compare My murthering him for his relieving me, It strikes a terror like a lightning's flash, To scorch my blood up. Thus I, like the owl, Ashamed of day, live in these shadowy woods, Afraid of every leaf or murmuring blast. Yet longing to receive some

When this eternal substance of my soul Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh: Each in their function serving other's need, I was a courtier in the Spanish Court. My name was Don Andrea, my descent Though not ignoble, yet inferior far To gracious fortunes of my tender youth: For there in prime and pride of all my years, By Duteous service and deserving love, In secret I possess'd a worthy dame, Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name. But in the harvest of my summer joys, Death's winter nipp'd the blossoms of my bliss, Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me. For in

Unless you were worthless, unless you were foolish, unless you were stark wild and an idiot, that which you see is disagreable to your husband, you would deem to be so to yourself as well. Moreover, if after this day you do any such thing to me, I'll force you, a divorced woman, turned out of my doors to go visit your father. For as often as I wish to go out of the house, you are detaining me, calling me back, asking me questions; whither I am going, what

Oh! Have pity upon me! You think yourself unhappy; alas! alas! you know not what unhappiness is. Oh! to love a woman! to be a priest! to be hated! to love with all the fury of one's soul; to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles, one's blood, one's vitals,

Anjou and Maine are given to the French, Paris is lost; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone. Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. I cannot blame them all. What is't to them? 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, Still revelling like lords till all be gone, While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them and wrings his

My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed, Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reaped Showed like a stubble land at harvest home. He was perfumFd like a milliner, And twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff; and still

O, I have passed a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such night Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days-- So full of dismal terror was the time. Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower And was embarked to cross the Bergundy, And in my company my brother Gloucester, Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befall'n

A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your king, That he should be so abject, base and poor, To choose for wealth and not for perfect love. Henry is able to enrich his queen And not seek a queen to make him rich: So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects, Must be companion of his nuptial bed: And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, It most of all these reasons bindeth

A heavier task could not have been imposed Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable: Yet, that the world may witness that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, I'll utter what my sorrows give me leave. In Syracusa was I born, and wed Unto a woman, happy but for me, And by me, had not our hap been bad. With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamnum; till my factor's death And the great care of goods at random left Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse: From whom

A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them? Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear, Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: And even now my burthen'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their

A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, To make this shameless callet know herself. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revell'd in the heart of France, And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop; And had he match'd according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day; But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, Even then that sunshine brew'd a

Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous: Virtue is choked with foul ambition And charity chased hence by rancour's hand; Foul subornation is predominant And equity exiled your highness' land. I know their complot is to have my life, And if my death might make this island happy, And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness: But mine is made the prologue to their play; For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; Sharp Buckingham unburthens with

Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows. That I must yield my body to the earth And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black

All is lost! This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me: My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder They cast their caps up and carouse together Like friends long lost. Triple-turned whore! 'tis thou Has sold me to this novice, and my heart Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly; For when I am revenged upon my charm, I have done all. Bid them all fly, begone. O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more. Fortune and Antony part here, even here Do we shake hands. All

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like a furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like

All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed With variable complexions, all agreeing In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs and puff To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses:

An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. Be not offended, nature's miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me: So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. Yet, if this servile usage once offend. Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. O, stay! I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says no As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: I'll call

And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul! In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast; And what I do imagine let that rest. Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself Will see his burial better than his life. Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Choked with ambition of the meaner sort: And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house: I doubt not but with honour to redress; And therefore haste I to the parliament, Either to be restored to my

And what's he then that says I play the villain? When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am

Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, To be exalted with the threatening clouds: But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction. A common slave--you know him well by sight-- Held up his left hand, which did flame

As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I am boy to all three; but all three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced; by the means whereof

Ay, we may march in England or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue. This late dissension grown betwixt the peers Burns under feigned ashes of forged love And will at last break out into a flame: As fester'd members rot but by degree, Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, So will this base and envious discord breed. And now I fear that fatal prophecy Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth Was in the mouth of every sucking babe; That Henry born at Monmouth should win all And Henry born at Windsor lose all: Which is

Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: --Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once, That make ingrateful man! Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then let fall Your horrible pleasure: here I stand,

Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What! did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin and people, in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, To keep by policy what Henry got? Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, Received deep scars in France and Normandy? Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, With all

Brother, adieu: good fortune come to thee! For thou wast got i' the way of honesty. A foot of honour better than I was; But many a many foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. 'Good den, sir Richard!'--'God-a-mercy, fellow!'-- And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names; 'Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveller, He and his toothpick at my worship's mess, And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, Why then I suck my teeth and catechise My picked man of

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my lady; O, it is my love! O that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing.

Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me saying to me 'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,' or 'good Gobbo,' or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience says 'No; take heed,' honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 'honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says the fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,' says the fiend, 'and run.' Well,

Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter. O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud, This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off and made a merry jest; Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced. What would you say,

Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: But he; as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war; And, in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he, 'I have already chose my officer.' And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; That never set a squadron in

Environed he was with many foes, And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdued; But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite, Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland,

Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. Then take him up and manage well the jest: Carry him gently to my fairest chamber And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: Procure me music ready when he wakes, To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; And if he chance to speak, be ready straight And with a low submissive reverence Say 'What is it your honour will command?' Let one attend him with a silver basin Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with

Even as one heat another heat expels, Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love Is by a newer object quite forgotten. Is it mine, or Valentine's praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, That makes me reasonless to reason thus? She is fair; and so is Julia that I love-- That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image, 'gainst a fire, Bears no impression of the thing it was. Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, And that I love him not as I was

First, heaven be the record to my speech! In the devotion of a subject's love, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence. Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, Too good to be so and too bad to live, Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it

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 interrèd 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 answered it. Here under leave of Brutus and the rest (For Brutus is an honorable man; So are they all, all honorable men), Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her. Stand forth, Lysander: and my gracious duke, This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child; Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchanged love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, With feigning voice verses of feigning love, And stolen the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: With cunning hast thou filch'd my

God pardon thee! Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger brother is supplied, And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court and princes of my blood. The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruined, and the soul of every man Prophetically do forethink thy fall. Had I so lavish of my presence been, So common-hackneyed in the eyes of men, So stale and cheap to vulgar company, Opinion, that did help me

Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't; It is ashamed to bear me! Friends, come hither: I am so lated in the world, that I Have lost my way for ever: I have a ship Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly, And make your peace with Caesar. I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone; I have myself resolved upon a course Which has no need of you; be gone: My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O, I follow'd that I blush to look upon: My very hairs

Have at you, then, affection's men-at-arms! Consider what you first did swear unto: To fast, to study, and to see no woman-- Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young, And abstinence engenders maladies. O, we have made a vow to study, lords, And in that vow we have forsworn our books; For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes Of beauty's tutors have enriched you

He fables not; I hear the enemy: Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings. O, negligent and heedless discipline! How are we park'd and bounded in a pale, A little herd of England's timorous deer, Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs! If we be English deer, be then in blood; Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch, But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel And make the cowards stand aloof at bay: Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my

He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires

Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover: I have too much believed mine own suspicion: Beseech you, tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. Apollo, pardon My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle! I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy; For, being transported by my jealousies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison My friend Polixenes: which had been done, But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My swift command, though I with death and with Reward did threaten and encourage

Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow More than my body's parting with my soul! My love and fear glued many friends to thee; And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts. Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, The common people swarm like summer flies; And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry's enemies? O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd

Hold thy desperate hand. Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art; Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote The unreasonable fury of a beast. Unseemly woman is a seeming man! And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better tempered. Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? And slay thy lady that in thy life lives, By doing damnèd hate upon thyself? Why railest thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? Since birth and

How courtesy would seem to cover sin, When what is done is like an hypocrite, The which is good in nothing but in sight! If it be true that I interpret false, Then were it certain you were not so bad As with foul incest to abuse your soul; Where now you're both a father and a son, By your untimely claspings with your child, Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father; And she an eater of her mother's flesh, By the defiling of her parent's bed; And both like serpents are, who though they feed On sweetest flowers, yet they

How! have they denied him? Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? And does he send to me? Three? hum! It shows but little love or judgment in him: Must I be his last refuge! His friends, like physicians, Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure upon me? Has much disgraced me in't; I'm angry at him, That might have known my place: I see no sense for't, But his occasion might have woo'd me first; For, in my conscience, I was the first man That e'er received gift from him: And does he think so backwardly of me now, That I'll

Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold; Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume! Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum: The business asketh silent secrecy. Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch: Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. Yet have I gold flies from another coast; I dare not say, from the rich cardinal And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk, Yet I do find it so; for to be plain, They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, Have hired me to undermine the duchess And buz these conjurations in her

I am thy father's spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could 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 combinèd locks to part, And each particular hair to

I cannot joy, until I be resolved Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about; And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought he bore him in the thickest troop As doth a lion in a herd of neat; Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. So fared our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father: Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. See how the morning opes her golden

I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world: And for because the world is populous And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, My soul the father; and these two beget A generation of still-breeding thoughts, And these same thoughts people this little world, In humours like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd With scruples and do set the word itself Against the

I heard myself proclaim'd; And by the happy hollow of a tree Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place, That guard, and most unusual vigilance, Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape, I will preserve myself: and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape That ever penury, in contempt of man, Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth; Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots; And with presented nakedness out-face The winds and persecutions of the sky. The country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, Strike

I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favor. Well, honor is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but for my single self, I had as life not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as myself. I was born free as Caesar; so were you. We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he. For once,

I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyoked humour of your idleness: Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That, when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So, when this loose

I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one man's blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men: Methinks they should invite them without knives; Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There's much example for't; the fellow that sits next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided draught,

I take to-day a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? there can be no evasion To blench from this and to stand firm by honour: We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, When we have soil'd them, nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should

I will, if that my fading breath permit And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son, The first-begotten and the lawful heir, Of Edward king, the third of that descent: During whose reign the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavor'd my advancement to the throne: The reason moved these warlike lords to this Was, for that--young King Richard thus removed, Leaving no heir begotten of his body-- I was the next by birth and parentage; For by my mother I derived am From Lionel Duke of

I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship First tried our soldiership! He did look far Into the service of the time and was Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; But on us both did haggish age steal on And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour; So

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust; First, as I am his

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so

In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed, Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, Fraught with the ministers and instruments Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel. To Tenedos they come; And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Their brave

Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France, And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, Unless by robbing of your friends and us. Were't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you? Methinks already in this civil broil I see them lording it in

Is there no way for men to be but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as

It must be by his death: and for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crown'd: How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;-- And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with. The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections sway'd More than his reason.

King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven, And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, No more my king, for he dishonours me, But most himself, if he could see his shame. Did I forget that by the house of York My father came untimely to his death? Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? Shame on himself! for my desert

Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall, That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, And minister in their steads! to general filths Convert o' the instant, green virginity, Do 't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal! Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed; Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of

Let none disturb us.--Why should this change of thoughts, The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, Be my so used a guest as not an hour, In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet? Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them, And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, Whose aim seems far too short to hit me here: Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. Then it is thus: the passions of the mind, That have their first conception by mis-dread, Have after-nourishment

Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true; That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides I say and will in battle prove, Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge That ever was survey'd by English eye, That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Further I say and further will maintain Upon his bad life to make all this good, That

Category: Male: Classical: Dramatic