WS? KJP
----- Original Message -----
From: "I. S. M." <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, March 21, 2001 5:22 PM
Subject: Re: Richard III (Long)
> Vince I already posted this. Guess there's never enough WS.
>
> Maybe too much of me or of you.
>
> ISM
>
>
>
> >From: Vince Montgomery <[log in to unmask]>
> >Reply-To: "St. John's University Cerebral Palsy List"
> ><[log in to unmask]>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
> >Subject: Richard III (Long)
> >Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2001 12:43:15 -0800
> >
> >Here it is Gang...
> >
> >- Vince
> >-----------
> >
> >ACT I
> >
> >SCENE I. London. A street.
> >
> > Enter GLOUCESTER, solus
> >
> >GLOUCESTER
> >
> > Now is the winter of our discontent
> > Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
> > And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
> > In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
> > Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
> > Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
> > Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
> > Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
> > Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
> > And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
> > To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
> > He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
> > To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
> > But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
> > Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
> > I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
> > To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
> > I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
> > Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
> > Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
> > Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
> > And that so lamely and unfashionable
> > That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
> > Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
> > Have no delight to pass away the time,
> > Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
> > And descant on mine own deformity:
> > And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
> > To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
> > I am determined to prove a villain
> > And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
> > Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
> > By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
> > To set my brother Clarence and the king
> > In deadly hate the one against the other:
> > And if King Edward be as true and just
> > As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
> > This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
> > About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
> > Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
> > Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
> > Clarence comes.
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