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  • #46
    I've read most of it.

    Show me anything like the Agamemnon and I'd be happy.
    Only feebs vote.

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    • #47

      She could have run and waddled all about;
      For even the day before, she broke her brow:
      And then my husband--God be with his soul!
      A' was a merry man--took up the child:
      'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
      Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
      Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
      The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'


      You all should know the play
      John Brown did nothing wrong.

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      • #48
        NURSE: Even or odd, of all the days in the year,
        Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen.
        Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls!)
        Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God;
        She was too good for me. But, as I said,
        On Lammas Eve at night she shall be fourteen;
        That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
        'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
        And she was weaned (I never shall forget it),
        Of all the days of the year, upon that day;
        For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
        Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall.
        My lord and you were then at Mantua.
        What you were looking for, Felch?
        Scouse Git (2) La Fayette Adam Smith Solomwi and Loinburger will not be forgotten.
        "Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for..."
        2015 APOLYTON FANTASY FOOTBALL CHAMPION!

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        • #49
          I just like the part about how she'll fall on her back when she has more wit.
          John Brown did nothing wrong.

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          • #50
            Probably my favorite character in all Shakespeare, from Othello

            It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies! I have profess'd me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perduarable toughness. I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with an usurp'd beard. I say, put money in thy purse. It canoot be long that Desdemona should continue her love to the Moor - put money in thy purse - nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestrations - put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills - fill thy purse with money....

            And one of my favorite scenes in all Shakespeare, from Julius Caesar

            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 intrred with their bones;
            I'm 49% Apathetic, 23% Indifferent, 46% Redundant, 26% Repetative and 45% Mathetically Deficient.

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            • #51
              Yesterday I saw "Measure for Measure". Quite a convoluted plot, and not the best of the Bard's works, but entertaining nonetheless. Had some good quotes in it.
              "mono has crazy flow and can rhyme words that shouldn't, like Eminem"
              Drake Tungsten
              "get contacts, get a haircut, get better clothes, and lose some weight"
              Albert Speer

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              • #52
                Originally posted by Agathon
                I've read most of it.

                Show me anything like the Agamemnon and I'd be happy.
                Forgive me if I seem dubious- I know English graduates who have yet to read most of Shakespeare.

                However, I would offer three of the great tragedies as obvious comparisons with 'Agamemnon'- 'King Lear', 'Hamlet' and 'Macbeth' all deal with broad themes of politics, family, deeds of blood, vengeance and justice. Each of Shakespeare's plays usually has distinctive imagery interwoven with the textual fabric- 'Macbeth' notably with blood, night, darkness and witchcraft, 'Antony and Cleopatra' with images of mutability and metamorphosis, 'Hamlet' with action and inaction, states of readiness and torpor.

                Lady Macbeth:

                The raven himself is hoarse
                That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
                Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
                That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
                And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
                Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
                Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
                That no compunctious visitings of nature
                Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
                The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
                And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
                Wherever in your sightless substances
                You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
                And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
                That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
                Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
                To cry 'Hold, hold!'
                Vive la liberte. Noor Inayat Khan, Dachau.

                ...patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone. Edith Cavell, 1915

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                • #53
                  Originally posted by Felch X
                  You're prolly not referring to Mark Antony "Cry havoc, and let loose the dogs of war."
                  Darnnit, you stole my quote!

                  Oh well, barring that...

                  Mercutio, Romeo & Juliet
                  O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
                  She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
                  In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
                  On the fore-finger of an alderman,
                  Drawn with a team of little atomies
                  Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
                  Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
                  The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
                  The traces of the smallest spider's web,
                  The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
                  Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
                  Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
                  Not so big as a round little worm
                  *****'d from the lazy finger of a maid;
                  Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
                  Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
                  Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
                  And in this state she gallops night by night
                  Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
                  O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
                  O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
                  O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
                  Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
                  Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
                  Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
                  And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
                  And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
                  Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
                  Then dreams, he of another benefice:
                  Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
                  And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
                  Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
                  Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
                  Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
                  And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
                  And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
                  That plats the manes of horses in the night,
                  And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
                  Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
                  This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
                  That presses them and learns them first to bear,
                  Making them women of good carriage:
                  This is she--
                  I AM.CHRISTIAN

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                  • #54
                    "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers"

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                    • #55
                      Henry the Fifths speech after being presenting with a gift of tennis balls from France is a classic:

                      We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
                      His present and your pains we thank you for:
                      When we have march'd our rackets to these balls,
                      We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set
                      Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
                      Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
                      That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
                      With chaces. And we understand him well,
                      How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
                      Not measuring what use we made of them.
                      We never valued this poor seat of England;
                      And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
                      To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common
                      That men are merriest when they are from home.
                      But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state,
                      Be like a king and show my sail of greatness
                      When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
                      For that I have laid by my majesty
                      And plodded like a man for working-days,
                      But I will rise there with so full a glory
                      That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
                      Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
                      And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his
                      Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
                      Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
                      That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows
                      Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands;
                      Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
                      And some are yet ungotten and unborn
                      That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
                      But this lies all within the will of God,
                      To whom I do appeal; and in whose name
                      Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on,
                      To venge me as I may and to put forth
                      My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
                      So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin
                      His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
                      When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.
                      Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
                      "We are living in the future, I'll tell you how I know, I read it in the paper, Fifteen years ago" - John Prine

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