I do not use any set methods, not even The Method. The character after all is in the lines.
quote by Donald Pleasence
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Related quotes
13 Question Method
(chuck berry)
Now, the thirteen question method is the one to use
Listen to me!
Thirteen question method is the one to use
Im saying that the thirteen question method is the one you gotta use
If you wanna have some fun
cause the thirteen question method is the one to use
Uhn!
Question number one: you wanna have fun, uh hun
Question number two: what to do ?
Lets see!
Question number three: wanna go out and eat burger with me ?
God almighty!
For the thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the question number five: dont give me no jive this morning
Question number six: dont try no tricks, this evening
Question number seven: Ill pick you up at a quarter to eleven, baby
And question number eight: its a date
Thats question number nine: where to dine, this evening ?
Question number ten: ah, can we get in ?
Question number eleven: gonna be just like heaven ?
God almighty!
Question number twelve: we get by ourselves ?
cause the thirteen question method is the one to use
The thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the thirteen question method is the one gotta use if you wanna...
The thirteen question method is the one to use
And she says ah...
She says...
The thirteen question method is the one to use
The thirteen question method is the one to use
Now the thirteen question method is the one gotta use if you wanna have some fun
cause the...
song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Interpretation of Nature and
I.
MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.
II.
Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.
III.
Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.
IV.
Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.
V.
The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.
VI.
It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.
VII.
The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.
VIII.
Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.
IX.
The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.
X.
The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.
XI.
As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.
XII.
The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.
XIII.
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Author's Apology For His Book
WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand
That I at all should make a little book
In such a mode: nay, I had undertook
To make another; which, when almost done,
Before I was aware I this begun.
And thus it was: I, writing of the way
And race of saints in this our gospel-day,
Fell suddenly into an allegory
About their journey, and the way to glory,
In more than twenty things which I set down
This done, I twenty more had in my crown,
And they again began to multiply,
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly.
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast,
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last
Should prove ad infinitum, I and eat out
The book that I already am about.
Well, so I did; but yet I did not think
To show to all the world my pen and ink
In such a mode; I only thought to make
I knew not what: nor did I undertake
Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I;
I did it my own self to gratify.
Neither did I but vacant seasons spend
In this my scribble; nor did I intend
But to divert myself, in doing this,
From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss.
Thus I set pen to paper with delight,
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white;
For having now my method by the end,
Still as I pull'd, it came; and so I penned
It down; until it came at last to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.
[...] Read more
poem by John Bunyan
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Set Me Free
You operate and motivate on synthetic fuel
you're Mother Nature and an atom bomb
As long as you're kept full of pretty bodies
your little secret will be safe with me
around again insane again
it somes again it sets me free
so set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
Your kept alive and polarized with one thing in mind,
metabolizin' everything that you see
but now and then or a little later
now I'm gonna take you down with me
Around again insane again
she comes again it sets me free
so set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
so set me free
set me free
'cuase I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So, take me down
take me down, down, down, down
take me down, take me down
So, take me down
take me down, down, down, down
take me down, take me down
So set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So set me free
set me free
'cause I think you need my soul
set me free
set me free
So set me free
set me free
[...] Read more
song performed by Velvet Revolver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Teapots and Quails
Teapots and Quails,
Snuffers and Snails,
Set him a sailing
and see how he sails!
..
Mitres and Beams,
Thimbles and Creams,
Set him a screaming
and hark! how he screams!
..
Houses and Kings,
Whiskers and Swings,
Set him a stinging
and see how he stings!
..
Ribands and Pigs,
Helmets and Figs,
Set him a jigging
and see how he jigs!
..
Rainbows and Knives,
Muscles and Hives,
Set him a driving
and see how he drives!
..
Tadpoles and Tops,
Teacups and Mops,
Set him a hopping
and see how he hops!
..
Herons and Sweeps,
Turbans and Sheeps,
Set him a weeping
and see how he weeps!
Lobsters and Owls,
Scissors and Fowls,
Set him a howling
and hark how he howls!
..
Eagles and Pears,
Slippers and Bears,
Set him a staring
and see how he stares!
..
Sofas and Bees,
Camels and Keys,
Set him a sneezing
and see how he'll sneeze!
..
Wafers and Bears,
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Lear
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Ill Never Set You Free
Theres nothing I can say
Theres nothing I can do
To show you the love
That I got for you
Theres nothing in this world
That could ever take your place
When I look into your eyes
I see a sweet face
Ill never set you free
till you give your love to me
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
And I need you (Ill never set, set you free)
Yes I want you (Ill never set, set you free)
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
Will you open up your heart
So love could make a start
I know that if you do
Dreams will come true
Ill never set you free
till you give your love to me
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
And I need you (Ill never set, set you free)
Yes I want you (Ill never set, set you free)
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
Ill never set you free
till you give your love to me
Theres nothing you can do
To stop my love for you
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
And I need you (Ill never set, set you free)
Yes I want you (Ill never set, set you free)
cos I love you (Ill never set, set you free)
[repeat / fade]
song performed by Rick Astley
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry
To Henry, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke.
I hate the Vulgar with untuneful Mind,
Hearts uninspir'd, and Senses unrefin'd.
Hence ye Prophane, I raise the sounding String,
And Bolingbroke descends to hear me sing.
When Greece cou'd Truth in Mystick Fable shroud,
And with Delight instruct the list'ning Crowd,
An ancient Poet (Time has lost his Name)
Deliver'd Strains on Verse to future Fame.
Still as he sung he touch'd the trembling Lyre,
And felt the Notes a rising Warmth inspire.
Ye sweet'ning Graces in the Musick Throng,
Assist my Genius, and retrieve the Song
From dark Oblivion. See, my Genius goes
To call it forth. 'Twas thus the Poem rose.
Wit is the Muses Horse, and bears on high
The daring Rider to the Muses Sky:
Who, while his strength to mount aloft he tries,
By Regions varying in their Nature, flies.
At first he riseth o'er a Land of Toil,
A barren, hard, and undeserving Soil,
Where only Weeds from heavy Labour grow,
Which yet the Nation prune, and keep for show.
Where Couplets jingling on their Accent run,
Whose point of Epigram is sunk to Pun.
Where Wings by Fancy never feather'd fly,
Where Lines by measure form'd in Hatchets lie;
Where Altars stand, erected Porches gape,
And Sense is cramp'd while Words are par'd to shape;
Where mean Acrosticks labour'd in a Frame,
On scatter'd Letters raise a painful Scheme;
And by Confinement in their Work controul
The great Enlargings of the boundless Soul.
Where if a Warriour's elevated Fire
Wou'd all the brightest Strokes of Verse require,
Then streight in Anagram a wretched Crew
Will pay their undeserving Praises too;
While on the rack his poor disjointed Name
Must tell its Master's Character to Fame.
And (if my Fire and Fears aright presage)
The lab'ring Writers of a future Age
Shall clear new ground, and Grotts and Caves repair,
To civilize the babbling Ecchoes there.
Then while a Lover treads a lonely Walk,
His Voice shall with its own Reflection talk,
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Parnell
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An Essay on Criticism
Part I
INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.
'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?
Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.
Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
[...] Read more
poem by Alexander Pope
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Read Between The Lines
Uh hu
You got to read between the lines
You got to read between the lines
You got to read between the lines
Ah ah ah ah
Late afternoon
Its the sun going down
A call on the cell
Why is he in such a hurry
Leaving the room
Hes mumbling too
Now look what hes doing
Hes leaving out the room
No explanation
No ask for location
Just watching him pacing
Wonder who hes chasing
Looks like versation
The end of debation
Hed love to go swing and
(chorus)
You better open your mind
And read between the lines
Got to read between the lines
Got to read between the lines
Got to read between the lines
Hot in the morning
Im up waiting for breakfast
Know your getting restless
This fool is full of questions
Little replying
Whole lot of denying
Instead I feel life in
So why do you keep on trying
Touch for the median
Now hes a comedian
Thats all the more reason
Its changing like the season
Are you still pleasing
How soon youll be leaving
Which one hell be creeping
(chorus)
(bridge)
Your replies are getting old
Its in his eyes
Youve got to read between the lines
Your replies again told
Look in his eyes
Youve got to read between the lines
Your replies are getting old
[...] Read more
song performed by Aaliyah
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nature
Weather constantly changes.
No character, only dynamic.
Dull and dreary,
Or bitter and cold,
Or bright and shiny.
This is mother nature.
She is of this world.
She dictates the mood.
She affects mine.
Emotions, constantly changing.
Personality has dynamic,
But lacks character.
It is constantly changing.
Bitter and resentful,
Frustrated and annoyed
Happy & joyous.
This is human nature.
It is of this world.
It dictates our mood.
It affects another.
Mother nature cannot be controlled.
For she is not ours.
Yet mother nature controls me,
Though I am not hers.
Together, we must exist.
We must accept each as we both are.
Though one affects the other.
Based on emotion, not character.
During the storm,
The sky is still the sky,
The ground, is still the ground
The sun is still the sun.
This is the character of mother nature.
The snow may cover the ground,
But the ground remains.
The clouds may cover the sun,
But the sun remains.
Character is always constant.
Nature affects character.
Character is patience, kindness,
Compassion, empathy, forgiving.
Plain and simple,
Our character is love.
Human nature covers human character,
Although it might not be seen,
It still remains.
[...] Read more
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Golden Treasure
The answer of gold is a saying you try,
That golden object may be needed afterwards.
Anybody will create a plain method,
The same methods are the plain methods.
Gold is plainly not silver, and both shine,
The method is the same, and we are the method.
To keep treasure in our gardens
Is the desire of all who are tame with riches
And wealth, the methods are similar,
They are so very similar.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Brus Book X
[Preparations for battle against John of Lorn]
Quhen Thomas Randell on this wis
Wes takyn as Ik her devys
And send to dwell in gud keping
For spek that he spak to the king,
The gud king that thocht on the scaith
The dispyt and felny bath
That Jhone off Lorne had till him doyn
His ost assemblyt he then sone
And towart Lorn he tuk the way
With his men intill gud aray.
Bot Jhone off Lorn off his cummyng
Lang or he come had wittering,
And men on ilk sid gadryt he
I trow twa thousand thai mycht be
And send thaim for to stop the way
Quhar the gud king behovyt away,
And that wes in an evill plas
That sa strayt and sa narow was
That twasum samyn mycht nocht rid
In sum place off the hillis sid.
The nethyr halff was peralous
For schor crag hey and hydwous
Raucht to the se doun fra the pas,
On athyr halff the montane was
Sua combrous hey and stay
That it was hard to pas that way.
I trow nocht that in all Bretane
Ane heyar hill may fundyn be.
Thar Jhone off Lorne gert his menye
Enbuschyt be abovyn the way,
For giff the king held thar away
He thocht he suld sone vencussyt be,
And himselff held him apon the se
Weill ner the pais with his galayis.
Bot the king that in all assayis
Wes fundyn wys and avisé
Persavyt rycht weill thar sutelte,
And that he neid that gait suld ga.
His men departyt he in twa
And till the gud lord off Douglas
Quham in herbryd all worschip was
He taucht the archerys everilkane
And this gud lord with him has tane
Schyr Alysander Fraser the wycht,
And Wylyam Wysman a gud knycht
And with thaim syne Schyr Androw Gray.
Thir with thar mengne held thar way
And clamb the hill deliverly
And or thai off the tother party
[...] Read more
poem by John Barbour
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A Fable For Critics
Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade,
Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made,
For the god being one day too warm in his wooing,
She took to the tree to escape his pursuing;
Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk,
And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk;
And, though 'twas a step into which he had driven her,
He somehow or other had never forgiven her;
Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic,
Something bitter to chew when he'd play the Byronic,
And I can't count the obstinate nymphs that he brought over
By a strange kind of smile he put on when he thought of her.
'My case is like Dido's,' he sometimes remarked;
'When I last saw my love, she was fairly embarked
In a laurel, as _she_ thought-but (ah, how Fate mocks!)
She has found it by this time a very bad box;
Let hunters from me take this saw when they need it,-
You're not always sure of your game when you've treed it.
Just conceive such a change taking place in one's mistress!
What romance would be left?-who can flatter or kiss trees?
And, for mercy's sake, how could one keep up a dialogue
With a dull wooden thing that will live and will die a log,-
Not to say that the thought would forever intrude
That you've less chance to win her the more she is wood?
Ah! it went to my heart, and the memory still grieves,
To see those loved graces all taking their leaves;
Those charms beyond speech, so enchanting but now,
As they left me forever, each making its bough!
If her tongue _had_ a tang sometimes more than was right,
Her new bark is worse than ten times her old bite.'
Now, Daphne-before she was happily treeified-
Over all other blossoms the lily had deified,
And when she expected the god on a visit
('Twas before he had made his intentions explicit),
Some buds she arranged with a vast deal of care,
To look as if artlessly twined in her hair,
Where they seemed, as he said, when he paid his addresses,
Like the day breaking through, the long night of her tresses;
So whenever he wished to be quite irresistible,
Like a man with eight trumps in his hand at a whist-table
(I feared me at first that the rhyme was untwistable,
Though I might have lugged in an allusion to Cristabel),-
He would take up a lily, and gloomily look in it,
As I shall at the--, when they cut up my book in it.
Well, here, after all the bad rhyme I've been spinning,
I've got back at last to my story's beginning:
Sitting there, as I say, in the shade of his mistress,
As dull as a volume of old Chester mysteries,
[...] Read more
poem by James Russell Lowell
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Set The Night To Music
Set the night to music
Set the night to music
Look at all the stars tonight, look at all the moonlight
Look at us were all alone
Oh and its just like a dream, some romantic fantasy
Darling come and hold, hold me close
We could be making love
And with the slightest touch
We could, set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you, to
Set the night to music
Find a rhythm all our own, melt into it nice and slow
Love ourselves away from here
Your heart beating next to mine, perfect love in perfect time
Watch the world disappear
This moment is ours to take (this moment is ours)
And with the love we make
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you, to
Set the night to music
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah
This moment is ours to take (this moment is ours)
And with the love we make
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could do what we want to do
Itll only take me and you,
To set the night, set the night
Set the night to music
Set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
We could set the night to music
Set the night, set the night, set the night, set the night...
song performed by Starship
Added by Lucian Velea
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Time Lines
i have said nothing for time wont allow me.
time lines... time lines... time lines, what i felt for you has turned to confusion.
as time lines up our times together worry overshadows my 'influenced' judgement.
time lines..
our future perfectly sealed for i filled my heart with your promises.
time outlined your feelings for me..
times we spent together seem so far away like the times of the early bud.
our love has lost its will to florish like juliets rose.
time has outlined my affection for you.
time lines.. time lines..
the memories we once cherished together, the lines that have been put between us by time have destroyed the love once shared by you and me.
time has been thought to mend broken hearts ALAS, it has made matters worse.
time lines me and you. time lined our fate through spectatr critiques.
we possess souls joint together by time, YET its time that divides us.
time took its tole on our love.
is this forbidden love? that time has outlined
time lines my emotions of love for you..
time lines my emtions.
time lines.... time lines
poem by Njube Nangamso
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Can We See The Future Today? [Part 1]
Many say it is fairly possible to foresee the future
Others say, probabilities can be computed
Some say, it is all a guessing game
Few say, why bother – what will be, will surely be
From time immemorial, human beings have
wondered what the future has in stock
Many have used various methods to peep into the future
Some of these methods include astrology, oneiromancy,
chiromancy, numerology, geomancy, crystal gazing,
tarot cards, clairvoyance, oracles, necromancy,
I ching, feng shui, rune casting and many more
All these methods are known by several people as
divination, fortune-telling, soothsaying and prophesy
Numerous people today are still using astrology to
predict, foresee and to forecast the future
Based on the time, place and day of birth, astrology can be
used to explore who we are, our potentials and our strengths
How accurate is astrology as a tool to foresee the future?
Some say, it depends on the astrologer
Oneiromancy is another method that has been used
to peep and foresee the future on this earth
Oneiromancy is the use of dreams to interpret the future
The future can sometimes be revealed in dreams
We all remember the dreams Jacob, Joseph, Daniel,
Paul and many more in the Bible
How precise are dreams to foresee the future?
The accuracy of dreams depends on individuals
Some have peeped into the future through chiromancy
otherwise called palmistry, which in simplistic terms – means
the reading of the lines on our right and left palms
The lines on our palms are said to contain secrets
about us from our cradle to our grave
How exact are palm-lines in revealing
our future hopes and potentials
This depends on the professionalism of the palm-reader
[ To Be Continued in Part 2]
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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The Brus Book XVIII
Only Berwick remains in English hands; a burgess offers to betray it]
The lordis off the land war fayne
Quhen thai wist he wes cummyn agan
And till him went in full gret hy,
And he ressavit thaim hamlyly
5 And maid thaim fest and glaidsum cher,
And thai sa wonderly blyth wer
Off his come that na man mycht say,
Gret fest and fayr till him maid thai.
Quharever he raid all the countre
10 Gaderyt in daynte him to se,
Gret glaidschip than wes in the land.
All than wes wonnyn till his hand,
Fra the Red Swyre to Orknay
Wes nocht off Scotland fra his fay
15 Outakyn Berwik it allane.
That tym tharin wonnyt ane
That capitane wes of the toun,
All Scottismen in suspicioun
He had and tretyt thaim tycht ill.
20 He had ay to thaim hevy will
And held thaim fast at undre ay,
Quhill that it fell apon a day
That a burges Syme of Spalding
Thocht that it wes rycht angry thing
25 Suagate ay to rebutyt be.
Tharfor intill his hart thocht he
That he wald slely mak covyne
With the marchall, quhays cosyne
He had weddyt till him wiff,
30 And as he thocht he did belyff.
Lettrys till him he send in hy
With a traist man all prively,
And set him tym to cum a nycht
With leddrys and with gud men wicht
35 Till the kow yet all prively,
And bad him hald his trist trewly
And he suld mete thaim at the wall,
For his walk thar that nycht suld fall.
[The marischal shows the letter to the king,
who seeks to avoid jealousy between Douglas and Moray]
Quhen the marchell the lettre saw
40 He umbethocht him than a thraw,
For he wist be himselvyn he
Mycht nocht off mycht no power be
For till escheyff sa gret a thing,
And giff he tuk till his helping
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poem by John Barbour
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0371 Reading behind the lines
So if it makes you feel great,
OK, go ahead -
as long as you're making yourself more attractive
for me, not your next husband...
OK, look like Anne Robinson if you must;
yes, she is great seen full-face, I grant
but now she's got no profile
to match those wit-sharp comments
to a sideways glance...
and yes, it's blushingly well-known
than a man can't even recognise his own wife in a crowd
if she's had her hair done in the interim...
so who am I - except the one who loves you
like the supper we've had every week
since we were courting? ...
but let me just say this:
I who have loved you
in my quiet way
like a favourite book (now, where did I put it? ...)
love those fine lines, that time and - we - have etched;
we men, surprise, are something of a connoisseur of lines:
the lines that cross your forehead: there, because
you're just so silly about not being seen by other men
with spectacles on your nose -
as if that told strange men
a lie and not the truth...
if they were lines of worry, anxiety, failure -
they'd be my responsibility, not yours...
and then the lines around the mouth:
that's a national thing in part -
it's well known that American women
welcome you with open mouth;
(and teeth! ...pearls? more like spotlights...) but
Europeans greet you with a smile of eyes;
(and there are cruder analogies I'll leave unsaid) :
so look carefully, man,
those smile-lines - a little forced;
or natural?
accommodating show-biz whopping tooth-caps?
upward and sweet-natured? or that downward turn
that bespeaks a critical mind you might come home to every night?
then the lines under your eyes - none of my business, those:
that's a matter of heredity or, OK, cosmetic surgery...
please yourself, my darling;
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Rosciad
Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.
Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,
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poem by Charles Churchill
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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