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I think people really marry far too much; it is such a lottery after all, and for a poor woman a very doubtful happiness.

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There Is Far Too Much Disintegration (In Answer To T.T. Cloete)

There is far too much disintegration,
that now occurs in our country
and much too scared
for the killing, raping and crime
we search for accessibility
to a place to also make a own life
while our humanity is being lost somewhere.

Far too many people being begrudged
the right of making a life while other stream in,
as foreigners who get citizenship,
while they are able to begin their lives,
while criminals reign supreme,
own gain
eats like a cancer on the government,
while we have to forget the better times.

Still we do believe in an almighty God
that holds His hand
over the destiny of nations, leaders;
in pain and mourning,
in suppression that circles out wider,
we still stay trusting
that a much better day still has got to come
and lie all of our cares only on Him.

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Far too much in love I was with her (sonnet corona / crown of sonnets)

(for A)


Far too much in love I was with her
but probably she did not really love me,
while she became involved with another,
and I became her liability.

Crying I could hardly see
and although the parting was shattering
from her fighting rages I was finally free
and being alone at times was overwhelming

the parting is much better still
as she tried to stain my integrity
and at times did not have goodwill,
tried to hide from any responsibility,

destiny knew better about the things that ought to be,
my love, like an illness almost destroyed me.


My love, like an illness almost destroyed me
and on the balcony of the fifteenth floor
I was robbed from sense and sensibility
wavering to jump and land in a bundle of gore

but something spoke to my heart spoke to my soul
and I knew that all fair reasoning had left me
turned me into a animal, somewhat like a ghoul
and immediately I saw this as inadequacy

dealing with the situation of love lost
and step away from the beyond
spared myself the ultimate cost
of going on in death's bond:

seeing that you like a devil besieged me,
I stepped away and from you I was free.


I stepped away and from you I was free,
but I still wonder how you could take
gifts, flowers and poems from me
and in my back could at times rake

your nails and with subtlety
sometimes look me in the eye,
while sleeping around and being dirty
while slowly causing our love to die?

Was it the looks that your beauty had drawn?
that made you slip and ride the tide
or was their promise in each new dawn,
until truth rocked me like a landslide:

while I thought that our love was strong,
what you did to me was terribly wrong.


What you did to me was terribly wrong
giving pain, more pain and joy and pain
as you carried on behind my back, went along,
but what did you really gain?

I wonder why you still at times call me
to tell me that you miss little things
and act sometimes sincerely
as if there are no endings or beginnings

and this was not really my making
and I have pain while you still laugh in glee
as you had made your choices in this undertaking,
destiny had forced me along, as things are to be;

like the withering, as time disposes
the dark red bunches of roses.


The dark red bunches of roses
grow among thorn upon thorn
and so it's with women clad in sheer hoses
and a gentle, humble one is still to be born.

Even if for love you do the right deed
it is sometimes filled with a canker,
even if to every caution you do heed
when you do further proceed.

Venus has led many men to disaster
into servant, follower
has stripped the good master
from all his power:

as witnessed by the scars that I bear,
from services to one not true but fair.


From services to one not true but fair
at times sudden disaster sprouted,
as she undressed, let down her long hair
and in intimacy screamed and shouted.

It is a thing to be loved
but then quite another
to from a heart be removed
and then when I truly loved her

even the hairs on her arms did rise
when I reached out to embrace
my loving her was not wise
as she acted at times in disgrace

and now that time speeds faster than it did before,
I wish to have half my life back once more.


I wish to have half my life back once more,
to live daily to what destiny brings
and now I do deplore
not having love's blessings

and it was painful when I went on my way,
to be deceived as she acted secretly
and was interested to kiss and play
with a friend very intimately

but live goes on with seasons and years,
and it brings joys, heartaches, pleasure and pain,
sometimes hours, days and months of tears
but with her I never want a relationship again

and to my death we will never again be together;
far too much in love I was with her

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For Me Far Too Much Foofaraw

For me far too much foofaraw
Your own conclusions on them and their work draw
Though modern poets and their poems in poetry the in thing
And their praises the literary critics sing.

I am not an up with the times man
And of them and their work I am not a fan
For I do love old fashioned rhyme
And my love for it goes back some time.

It gives me joy to sing along
With the singer of the old ballad or song
The sort the travellers at the horse fairs sung
Decades ago when I was young.

A beautiful memory I recall
Of the Millstreet Town horse fair in the Fall
An ageing Irish Traveller sung Burns 'Afton water' what a joy
For a nine year old country boy.

In the poems of modern poets too much foofaraw for me
Though with that many would disagree
I love the music in the rhyme
The poetry of another time.

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Have you Really ever understood yourself?

Life is a journey of lessons
But we get lost in recess
on the way
Homework forgotten and neglected
far too much time
spent in play

We became followers and shirkers
Too lazy to put effort in
Where we could have made ourselves
We just struggled with no depth within

Religion was made for the lazy
the ones who lost touch long ago
The Bible a book packed with lessons
that most of the world didn't know

A misunderstood work used in error
Wars caused through Man's ignorance
of the word
Left a world struggling in terror
long buried truth never heard

Religion was born out of fears
a lost time with nothing to hold
superstition was ripe and compelling
It caused man to become violent and bold

The truth is that man is but spirit
here on this earth as his school
a place where trial an error
have made religion the work of a fool

Spirit was given a place here
to have faith in a God it can trust
Believing in him is the answer
accepting this fact is a must

We need to get rid of religions
Cults that man now seeks for power
get back to the truth in our system
for this is the time and the hour

We have a mind so amazing
we can be anything that we think
without superstition and religion
our spirit fills with wisdom to the brink

Nothing holds back a true spirit
No religion or cult formed by man
Control by those people not Gods will
Certainly was not part of God's plan

Within us we hold all the power
That was given to us for our own
We just have to think it to receive it
The power of this not well known

Man may never learn his lessons
and have to return over again
but during the time of his schooling
he will have to start using his brain.

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Standing Room Only

This population explosion
Said Peter to St. Paul
Is really getting far too much
Just look at the crowd in the hall.
Even here, in Heaven
There isn't any room
I think the world could do with less
Much less fruit in the womb.
Thus Heaven is overcrowded
The numbers are starting to tell
So when the next lot knock at the gates
Tell 'em to 'Go to Hell'.

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Too Much

(ian hunter)
(transcribed by adrian perkins; minor corrections by colin ford and jim kettner)
All I ever wanted was to lose myself in you
All I ever needed was you to need me too
Youre all I ever think about
I hunger for your touch
n all I ever wanted
Was you - is that too much?
I hate the pain of loving you
It happens all the time
I never needed anything or anybody
Until your eyes met mine
Im waiting for your answer babe
Whats gonna become of us?
cos all I ever wanted
Was you - is that too much?
It is too much to ask
That this man with a past
Could be happy at last
With a future like you
It is too much to ask
Is it too much of a task
Am I going to fast - for you?
Maybe you dont want me
Im so scared of losing you
I never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity
Watch me screw up this one too
Its so hard to talk about love
Im leaving now, oh its just
n all I ever wanted
Was you - is that too much?

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Too Much Is Not Enough

(turner, held, greenwood) 4.19
Youre so extreme, youre super heavy
Youre one step over the line
Not what you seem, dont try and tell me
I know whats really on your mind
Once you get started youre out of control
Dont play that sweet and innocent with me girl
I know you know you want to rock and roll
But I got just what you need
I, I want to feel your love
Too much is not enough
I, I want to feel your touch
Too much is not enough
Youve got it bad, youre hopelessly addicted
Youre always searching for the cure
Love is the crime, you stand convicted
You keep on coming back for more
Come on admit it, youre over the top
That song and dance wont work with me girl
You just cant quit it, dont know when to stop
But I got the remedy
I, I want to feel your love
Too much is not enough
I, I want to feel your touch
Too much is not enough
Baby stop wasting time
And let me know that youre mine
I need to feel your embrace
How much can I take

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I've Learned Not to Confess Too Much

I've learned,
Not to confess too much.
Even to those I 'suspect' I can trust.

Nothing is as real,
As one's own touch.
Especially if one's hands,
Covers a mouth to keep shut.

Yes I have learned,
Not to confess too much.
Some may rush to pass judgement.
And unconsciously without intention...
Innocently crush an unexpected exchange.
Made by a quick assessment that shames.

Leaving eyes to bug wide.
And names to be called.
With a falling out done.
Over really nothing at all.

I've learned,
Not to confess too much.
Or express on my face...
Something in my mouth leaves a bad taste.
And as difficult as this may seem to me,
I may lie.
To protect my own and someone else's dignity.
Than to bring someone to tears.
Because of a giggle heard a person hears.

Experience has taught me this...
IF someone wishes to expose,
Their ugly baby to me...
At least I know how,
Not to look in shock or horror.

Oh yes...
I've learned not to express too much!
If tears should fall from 'my' eyes?
I am quick to announce,
An ecstatic happiness.
With a controlled truth,
Hopefully kept undetected inside.

Although my knees may knock...
I am quick not to let them bend.
From a howling laughter,
I do my best to keep within.

'Lord, God...
I thank You! '

~You have more control than I do!
Did you 'see' that ugly baby?
Don't blame that on Me, uh uh...
Oh no.~

'GOD..? '

~Don't 'God' Me...
I had nuthin' to do with that!
My assignments are in the East,
And South Cosmos.~

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Too Much On My Mind

Too much on my mind, just too much on my mind (repeat 4x)
[charlie brown]
My mind, ready to go, its time
I gotta gotta know, where Im going in l-i-f-e
A constant headache for charlie b
But I take an asprin and sleep
For a bit, then I dream about making more hits
Wake up, its not funny
The rent is due and I dont got the money
The landlord says get out
Sorry to hear that, no doubt
I work for a jerk that cant understand
Pride and soul cause Im a man
Minimum wage in the age of the future
Move too slow, damn, it might shoot ya
Make fools out of me and you
I sit relax and just continue
To (to) think (think) that there is
Just too much on my mind
Too much on my mind, just too much on my mind (repeat 2x)
[dinco d]
Got up this morning (too much)
Still sleepy and yawning (too much)
My stomach is growling (too much)
The bus is crowding (too much)
I told my boss Im getting paid (too less)
So I quit, and sit with my last check
I go to the mall and cant get fresh
For 99 dollars and 95 cents
Plus, I dont want to hear it
Theres too much on my mind and I can hear it
Calling for the d-i-n-c-o
Here comes my girl, wait, I gotta go
Nah, Im not running, Ill just say no
And go and tell my homeboy jerell
He cant spell but he knows, relief
(he cant spell but he knows relief)
Too much on my mind, just too much on my mind (repeat 4x)
The mind is more delicate, more action than a predicate
You think of things that are never thought of and then settle it
Do this (do that) go here (go there)
Its too much on my mind
The mind is more delicate, more action than a predicate
You think of things that are never thought of and then settle it
No money (no job) no home (no life)
Its too much on my mind
Too much on my mind, just too much on my mind (repeat 4x)
[busta rhymes]
Aw baby, what a feeling, what a way to feel when youre down and beat
Youre all by yourself in a little corner, no one to help you
Yo, its like this, you know sometimes you gotta stand up strong for self
Do the little things on your own
Strive hard, strive for perfection
And Im a tell you one thing
Leaders of the new school, definitely gonna rule things
>from our beginning time, till forever, peace

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I think the killers get far too much attention.

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Too Much Has Been Revealed

A renewal of beliefs to review to meet,
Ingredients now fed to eat is much needed.
An obscruity of that which had been valued,
Blocks steps on paved roads now used today.
Updating of standards is more specific than wished.
Too much has been revealed.

Too much has been revealed.

What was 'then' thought and taught as reality,
Has come to cast shadows on that which had existed.

Too much has been revealed.

Overwhelmed are those attempting to restrict themselves,
To lives lived in limitations.

Too much has been revealed.

A transformation is in progress.
And will not cease by those wishing with ease...
To have it swept away in defeat to critique it with ratings.
To place its significance with a label that stays.
Too much...
Has been revealed.

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Too Much Love

Too much love
Too much love
At times I make you crazy
At times I make you sad
Sometimes you make me feel like
There's no one quite as bad
But there's just too much love between us
There's just too mcuh love between us
We can work it out
Oh, I know we can
'Cause it's all left in our hands
If we give ourselves just a little time
It'll all work out just fine
'Cause there's just too much love between us
Yeah, there's just too much love between us
Silence can be deafening
When you don't make a sound
At times you make me wonder
Why you want me around
I guess there's too much love between us
There's just too much love between us
There are rocky roads
And it's touch and go
And there are times to be alone
But there's something deeper
That we can't explain
It's an everylasting flame
Now there's just too much love between us
Now there's just too much love between us
There's just too much love between us
There's just too much love between us
Too much love between us
Too much love between us
Too much love
Too much love between us
Too much
Too much love
Too much love between us
Too much love between us
Yes there is
Too much love between us
Too much love
Too much love between us
Too much love between us

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Too Much In-The-Love

A position of proposition kept.
With a common sense,
Not academic!

I am not someone to invite to test.
But I've never met an obstacle...
That has of yet,
Made me unhappy because we've met.

'Cause I'm...
Too much in-the-love!
Just too basic.

I studied all the books in school.
And as a rule I found this true...
I am,
Too much in-the-love!
Just too basic.

My Masters and my Doctorate,
I got early in life.
And the military taught me...
To be,

A position of proposition kept.
With a common sense,
Not academic!

'Cause I'm...
Too much in-the-love!
Just 'too' basic.

My 'degree' is in my 'own' history!
And my proposition spoken,
Is in my position...

Too much in-the-love!
I'm Just TOO basic.

My Masters and my Doctorate,
I got early in life.
And the military taught me...
To be,
And today I'm delighted.
'Cause I'm...
Just too much,
Just too basic.

'Cause I'm...
Just 'too' much,
Just TOO basic.

So basic I am wide eyed.
And I'm...
Just 'too' much in-the-love.
Just TOO basic.
And earned to keep!

Yes I'm too much,
Just too much,
Yes too much,
Just too much.

Yes I'm too much,
Just too much,
Yes too much,
Just TOO much.

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Ridley Scott

People say I pay too much attention to the look of a movie but for God's sake, I'm not producing a Radio 4 Play for Today, I'm making a movie that people are going to look at.

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Of Your Feelings On Human Rights

Of your feelings on human rights never leave others in doubt
Of wrongs against others one ought to speak out
To those who abuse others rights let your feelings be known
Them for their behaviour you ought to disown
Though with what I say here many may not agree
Those silent at human rights abuse seem in agreement to me
With the offender whoever the offending one may be
Silence in the demonization of others is saying yes to inhumanity
Speak out against racism for racism is wrong
In the Human World it does not belong
There is far too much racism in the big World out there
And a racist person one can meet anywhere,
Against abuse of human rights never fear to speak out
On your feelings on such never leave others in doubt.

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Far Too Quickly Relationships Are Over (Stave Stanza Sestets)

Far too quickly relationships are over,
and people move on to the next lover,
do not stick with the one, whom they adore,
want the quick-fix, to find something more,
think that in maturity they are growing
they do not care where their lives are going

In my own past, time moved much too fast,
and I want a relationship that will last
had enough turbulence for a lifetime
and now that I am passing my own prime
in some of my friends the years are showing,
they do not care where their lives are going.

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She Had Too Much She Had Too Little

of this
she had too much
of that
she had too little
and of this and of that
i am a little bit confused
what to take
what to discard
what to leave
what to believe
buy this buy that
throw this throw that away
i take a step forward i am told to take another step backward
i think it must be this
but i think it can also be that
of this and that
of these and those
it does not matter what she really thinks
i have my own thoughts now
about this and about that
i will take this
and only this
from far away London
i shall have thoughts of my own
now....................................... ......

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Think Too Much

The smartest people in the world
Had gathered in los angeles
To analyze our love affair
And possibly unscramble us
And we sat among our photographs
Examined every one
And in the end we compromised
And met the morning sun
Maybe i think too much
Maybe i think too much
Maybe i think too much
Maybe i think too much
They say the left side of the brain
Dominates the right
And the right side has to labor
Through the long and speechless night
And in the night
My father came to me
And held me to his chest
He said there's not much more that you can do
Go on and get some rest
And i said yeah
Maybe i think too much
Maybe i think too much
Maybe i think too much
Maybe i think too much

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Uncertainty Is Too Much With Me


Uncertainty is too much with me
And question too much of what I am
Fear is with me so much
And anxiety also
I am not the best example
Of what a pioneer or patriot should be.
I have gotten through it quietly so far
With many blessings given by God
And help from family and friends -
I am a small person really
With great literary ambitions
Never realized-
A kind person when convenient
Not bad not great
Fearing a war and our destruction
Knowing I am not the one to save us
Praying to G-d for help
And knowing G-d does not always answer-
Writing and writing
And trying in my own small way
To help those near me
To do my part for all of us.
A little man in a promised holy land
Praying the Jewish people
Will not know another disaster.

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The Merchant of Venice,: A Legend of Italy

I believe there are few
But have heard of a Jew,
Named Shylock, of Venice, as arrant a 'screw'
In money transactions as ever you knew;
An exorbitant miser, who never yet lent
A ducat at less than three hundred per cent.,
Insomuch that the veriest spendthrift in Venice,
Who'd take no more care of his pounds than his pennies,
When press'd for a loan, at the very first sight
Of his terms, would back out, and take refuge in Flight.
It is not my purpose to pause and inquire
If he might not, in managing thus to retire,
Jump out of the frying-pan into the fire;
Suffice it, that folks would have nothing to do,
Who could possibly help it, with Shylock the Jew.

But, however discreetly one cuts and contrives,
We've been most of us taught in the course of our lives,
That 'Needs must when the Elderly Gentleman drives!'
In proof of this rule,
A thoughtless young fool,
Bassanio, a Lord of the Tomnoddy school,
Who, by showing at Operas, Balls, Plays, and Court,
A 'swelling' (Payne Collier would read 'swilling') 'port,'
And inviting his friends to dine, breakfast, and sup,
Had shrunk his 'weak means,' and was 'stump'd,' and 'hard up,'
Took occasion to send
To his very good friend
Antonio, a merchant whose wealth had no end,
And who'd often before had the kindness to lend
Him large sums, on his note, which he'd managed to spend.

'Antonio,' said he, 'Now listen to me;
I've just hit on a scheme which, I think you'll agree,
All matters consider'd, is no bad design,
And which, if it succeeds, will suit your book and mine.
'In the first place, you know all the money I've got,
Time and often, from you has been long gone to pot,
And in making those loans you have made a bad shot;
Now do as the boys do when, shooting at sparrows
And tom-tits, they chance to lose one of their arrows,
-- Shoot another the same way -- I'll watch well its track,
And, turtle to tripe, I'll bring both of them back!
So list to my plan,
And do what you can,
To attend to and second it, that's a good man!

'There's a Lady, young, handsome, beyond all compare, at
A place they call Belmont, whom, when I was there, at
The suppers and parties my friend Lord Mountferrat
Was giving last season, we all used to stare at,
Then, as to her wealth, her solicitor told mine,
Besides vast estates, a pearl fishery, and gold mine,
Her iron strong box
Seems bursting its locks,
It's stuffed so with shares in 'Grand Junctions,' and 'Docks,'
Not to speak of the money's she's got in the stocks,
French, Dutch, and Brazilian, Columbian, and Chilian,
In English Exchequer-bills full half a million,
Not 'kites,' manufactured to cheat and inveigle,
But the right sort of 'flimsy,' all signed by Monteagle.
Then I know not how much in Canal-shares and Railways
And more speculations I need not detail, ways
Of vesting which, if not so safe as some think'em,
Contribute a deal to improving one's income;
In short, she's a Mint!
-- Now I say, deuce is in't
If with all my experience, I can't take a hint,
And her 'eye's speechless messages,' plainer than print
At the time that I told you of, know from a squint,
In short, my dear Tony,
My trusty old crony,
Do stump up three thousand once more as a loan -- I
Am sure of my game -- though, of course there are brutes,
Of all sorts and sizes, preferring their suits
To her you may call the Italian Miss Coutts,
Yet Portia -- she's named from that daughter of Cato's--
Is not to be snapp'd up like little potatoes,
And I have not a doubt I shall rout every lout
Ere you'll whisper Jack Robinson -- cut them all out --
Surmount every barrier, Carry her, marry her!
-- Then hey! my old Tony, when once fairly noosed,
For her Three-and-a-half per cents -- New and Reduced!'

With a wink of his eye His friend made reply
In his jocular manner, sly, caustic, and dry.
'Still the same boy, Bassanio -- never say 'die'!
-- Well -- I hardly know how I shall do't, but I'll try.--
Don't suppose my affairs are at all in a hash,
But the fact is, at present I'm quite out of cash;
The bulk of my property, merged in rich cargoes, is
Tossing about, as you know, in my Argosies,
Tending, of course, my resources to cripple,-- I
've one bound to England,-- another to Tripoli--
Cyprus -- Masulipatam -- and Bombay;--
A sixth, by the way, I consigned t'other day
To Sir Gregor M'Gregor, Cacique of Poyais,
A country where silver's as common as clay.
Meantime, till they tack, And come, some of them, back,
What with Custom-house duties, and bills falling due,
My account with Jones Loyd and Co. looks rather blue;
While, as for the 'ready,' I'm like a Church-mouse,--
I really don't think there's five pounds in the house.
But, no matter for that,
Let me just get my hat,
And my new silk umbrella that stands on the mat,
And we'll go forth at once to the market -- we two,--
And try what my credit in Venice can do;
I stand well on 'Change, and, when all's said and done, I
Don't doubt I shall get it for love or for money.'

They were going to go,
When, lo! down below,
In the street, they heard somebody crying, 'Old Clo'!'
--'By the Pope, there's the man for our purpose!-- I knew
We should not have to search long. Salanio, run you,
-- Salarino,-- quick!-- haste! ere he get out of view,
And call in that scoundrel, old Shylock the Jew!'

With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!-- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'

--'Why, Shylock, although, As you very well know,
I am what they call 'warm,'-- pay my way as I go,
And, as to myself, neither borrow nor lend,
I can break through a rule to oblige an old friend;
And that's the case now -- Lord Bassanio would raise
Some three thousand ducats -- well,-- knowing your ways,
And that nought's to be got from you, say what one will,
Unless you've a couple of names to the bill,
Why, for once, I'll put mine to it,
Yea, seal and sign to it --
Now, then, old Sinner, let's hear what you'll say
As to 'doing' a bill at three months from to-day?
Three thousand gold ducats, mind -- all in good bags
Of hard money -- no sealing-wax, slippers, or rags?'

'-- Vell, ma tear,' says the Jew, 'I'll see vat I can do!
But Mishter Antonio, hark you, 'tish funny
You say to me, 'Shylock, ma tear, ve'd have money!'
Ven you very vell knows, How you shpit on ma clothes,
And use naughty vords -- call me Dog -- and avouch
Dat I put too much int'resht py half in ma pouch,
And vhile I, like de resht of ma tribe, shrug and crouch,
You find fault mit ma pargains, and say I'm a Smouch.
-- Vell!--n o matters, ma tear,-- Von vord in your ear!
I'd be friends mit you bote -- and to make dat appear,
Vy, I'll find you de monies as soon as you vill,
Only von littel joke musht be put in de pill;
Ma tear, you musht say,
If on such and such day
Such sum or such sums, you shall fail to repay,
I shall cut vere I like, as de pargain is proke,
A fair pound of your flesh -- chest by vay of a joke.'

So novel a clause Caused Bassanio to pause;
But Antonio, like most of those sage 'Johnny Raws'
Who care not three straws
About Lawyers or Laws,
And think cheaply of 'Old Father Antic,' because
They have never experienced a gripe from his claws,
'Pooh pooh'd' the whole thing.--'Let the Smouch have his way,
Why, what care I, pray,
For his penalty?-- Nay,
It's a forfeit he'd never expect me to pay:
And, come what come may, I hardly need say
My ships will be back a full month ere the day.'
So, anxious to see his friend off on his journey,
And thinking the whole but a paltry concern, he
Affixed with all speed
His name to a deed,
Duly stamp'd and drawn up by a sharp Jew attorney.
Thus again furnish'd forth, Lord Bassanio, instead
Of squandering the cash, after giving one spread,
With fiddling and masques, at the Saracen's Head,
In the morning 'made play,' And without more delay,
Started off in the steam-boat for Belmont next day.
But scarcely had he
From the harbour got free,
And left the Lagunes for the broad open sea,
Ere the 'Change and Rialto both rung with the news
That he'd carried off more than mere cash from the Jew's.

Though Shylock was old,
And, if rolling in gold,
Was as ugly a dog as you' wish to behold,
For few in his tribe 'mongst their Levis and Moseses,
Sported so Jewish an eye, beard, and nose as his,
Still, whate'er the opinion of Horace and some be,
Your aquilæ generate sometimes Columbæ,
Like Jephthah, as Hamlet says, he'd 'one fair daughter,'
And every gallant, who caught sight of her, thought her,
A jewel -- a gem of the very first water;
A great many sought her,
Till one at last caught her,
And, upsetting all that the Rabbis had taught her,
To feelings so truly reciprocal brought her,
That the very same night Bassanio thought right
To give all his old friends that farewell 'invite,'
And while Shylock was gone there to feed out of spite,
On 'wings made by a tailor' the damsel took flight.

By these 'wings' I'd express
A grey duffle dress,
With brass badge and muffin cap, made, as by rule,
For an upper-class boy in the National School.
Jessy ransack'd the house, popp'd her breeks on, and when so
Disguised, bolted off with her beau -- one Lorenzo,
An 'Unthrift,' who lost not a moment in whisking
Her into the boat,
And was fairly afloat
Ere her Pa had got rid of the smell of the griskin.
Next day, while old Shylock was making a racket,
And threatening how well he'd dust every man's jacket
Who'd help'd her in getting aboard of the packet,
Bassanio at Belmont was capering and prancing,
And bowing, and scraping, and singing, and dancing,
Making eyes at Miss Portia, and doing his best
To perform the polite, and to cut out the rest;
And, if left to herself, he, no doubt, had succeeded,
For none of them waltz'd so genteelly as he did;
But an obstacle lay, Of some weight, in his way,
The defunct Mr. P. who was now turned to clay,
Had been an odd man, and, though all for the best he meant,
Left but a queer sort of 'Last will and testament,'--
Bequeathing her hand,
With her houses and land,
&c., from motives one don't understand,
As she rev'renced his memory, and valued his blessing,
To him who should turn out the best hand at guessing!

Like a good girl, she did
Just what she was bid,
In one of three caskets her picture she hid,
And clapp'd a conundrum a-top of each lid.

A couple of Princes, a black and a white one,
Tried first, but they both fail'd in choosing the right one.
Another from Naples, who shoe'd his own horses;
A French Lord, whose graces might vie with Count D'Orsay's;--
A young English Baron;-- a Scotch Peer his neighbour;--
A dull drunken Saxon, all moustache and sabre;
All follow'd, and all had their pains for their labour.
Bassanio came last -- happy man be his dole!
Put his conjuring cap on,-- considered the whole,--
The gold put aside as
Mere 'hard food for Midas,'
The silver bade trudge
As a 'pale common drudge;'
Then choosing the little lead box in the middle,
Came plump on the picture, and found out the riddle.

Now, you're not such a goose as to think, I dare say,
Gentle Reader, that all this was done in a day,
Any more than the dome Of St. Peter's at Rome
Was built in the same space of time; and, in fact,
Whilst Bassanio was doing
His billing and cooing,
Three months had gone by ere he reach'd the fifth act;
Meanwhile that unfortunate bill became due,
Which his Lordship had almost forgot, to the Jew,
And Antonio grew In a deuce of a stew,
For he could not cash up, spite of all he could do;
(The bitter old Israelite would not renew,)
What with contrary winds, storms, wrecks, and embargoes, his
Funds were all stopp'd, or gone down in his argosies,
None of the set having come into port,
And Shylock's attorney was moving the Court
For the forfeit supposed to be set down in sport.

The serious news
Of this step of the Jew's,
And his fix'd resolution all terms to refuse,
Gave the newly-made Bridegroom a fit of 'the Blues,'
Especially, too, as it came from the pen
Of his poor friend himself on the wedding-day,-- then,
When the Parson had scarce shut his book up, and when
The Clerk was yet uttering the final Amen.

'Dear Friend,' it continued, 'all's up with me -- I
Have nothing on earth now to do but to die!
And, as death clears all scores, you're no longer my debtor;
I should take it as kind
Could you come -- never mind --
If your love don't persaude you, why,-- don't let this letter!'

I hardly need say this was scarcely read o'er
Ere a post-chaise and four
Was brought round to the door
And Bassanio, though, doubtless, he thought it a bore,
Gave his Lady one kiss, and then started at score.
But scarce in his flight
Had he got out of sight
Ere Portia, addressing a groom, said, 'My lad, you a
Journey must take on the instant to Padua;
Find out there Bellario,a Doctor of Laws,
Who, like Follett, is never left out of a cause,
And give him this note,
Which I've hastily wrote,
Take the papers he'll give you -- then push for the ferry
Below, where I'll meet you, you'll do't in a wherry,
If you can't find a boat on the Brenta with sails to it
-- Stay, bring his gown too, and wig with three tails to it.'

Giovanni (that's Jack)
Brought out his hack,
Made a bow to his mistress, then jump'd on its back,
Put his hand to his hat, and was off in a crack.
The Signora soon follow'd herself, taking as her
Own escort Nerissa her maid, and Balthasar.

'The Court is prepared, the Lawyers are met,
The Judges all ranged, a terrible show!'
As Captain Macheath says,-- and when one's in debt,
The sight's as unpleasant a one as I know,
Yet still not so bad after all, I suppose,
As if, when one cannot discharge what one owes,
They should bid people cut off one's toes or one's nose;
Yet here, a worse fate,
Stands Antonio, of late
A Merchant, might vie e'en with Princes in state,
With his waistcoat unbutton'd, prepared for the knife,
Which, in taking a pound of flesh, must take his life;
-- On the other side Shylock, his bag on the floor,
And three shocking bad hats on his head, as before,
Imperturbable stands,
As he waits their commands
With his scales and his great snicker-snee in his hands:
-- Between them, equipt in a wig, gown and bands,
With a very smooth face, a young dandified Lawyer,
Whose air, ne'ertheless, speaks him quite a top-sawyer,
Though his hopes are but feeble,
Does his possible
To make the hard Hebrew to mercy incline,
And in lieu of his three thousand ducats take nine,
Which Bassanio, for reasons we well may divine,
Shows in so many bags all drawn up in a line.
But vain are all efforts to soften him -- still
He points to the bond He so often has conn'd,
And says in plain terms he'll be shot if he will.
So the dandified Lawyer, with talking grown hoarse,
Says, 'I can say no more -- let the law take its course.'

Just fancy the gleam of the eye of the Jew,
As he sharpen'd his knife on the sole of his shoe
From the toe to the heel, And grasping the steel,
With a business-like air was beginning to feel
Whereabouts he should cut, as a butcher would veal,
When the dandified Judge puts a spoke in his wheel.
'Stay, Shylock,' says he, Here's one thing -- you see
This bond of yours gives you here no jot of blood!
-- The words are 'A pound of flesh,'-- that's clear as mud --
Slice away, then, old fellow -- but mind!-- if you spill
One drop of his claret that's not in your bill,
I'll hang you, like Haman?-- By Jingo I will!'

When apprised of this flaw, You never yet saw
Such an awfully mark'd elongation of jaw
As in Shylock, who cried, 'Plesh ma heart! ish dat law?'--
Off went his three hats,
And he look'd as the cats
Do, whenever a mouse has escaped from their claw.
'-- Ish't the law?'-- why the thing won't admit of a query --
'No doubt of the fact,
Only look at the act;
Acto quinto, cap. tertio, Dogi Falieri --
Nay, if, rather than cut, you'd relinquish the debt,
The Law, Master Shy, has a hold on you yet.
See Foscari's 'Statutes at large'--'If a Stranger
A Citizen's life shall, with malice, endanger,
The whole of his property, little or great,
Shall go, on conviction, one half to the State,
And one to the person pursued by his hate;
And, not to create
Any farther debate,
The Doge, if he pleases, may cut off his pate.'
So down on your marrowbones, Jew, and ask mercy!
Defendant and Plaintiff are now wisy wersy.'

What need to declare
How pleased they all were
At so joyful an end to so sad an affair?
Or Bassanio's delight at the turn things had taken,
His friend having saved, to the letter, his bacon?--
How Shylock got shaved, and turn'd Christian, though late,
To save a life-int'rest in half his estate?
How the dandified Lawyer, who'd managed the thing,
Would not take any fee for his pains but a ring
Which Mrs. Bassanio had given to her spouse,
With injunctions to keep it on leaving the house?--
How when he, and the spark
Who appeared as his clerk,
Had thrown off their wigs, and their gowns, and their jetty coats,
There stood Nerissa and Portia in petticoats?--
How they pouted, and flouted, and acted the cruel,
Because Lord Bassanio had not kept his jewel?--
How they scolded and broke out,
Till having their joke out,
They kissed, and were friends, and, all blessing and blessed,
Drove home by the light
Of a moonshiny night,
Like the one in which Troilus, the brave Trojan knight,
Sat astride on a wall, and sigh'd after his Cressid?--

All this, if 'twere meet,
I'd go on to repeat,
But a story spun out so's by no means a treat,
So, I'll merely relate what, in spite of the pains
I have taken to rummage among his remains,
No edition of Shakspeare, I've met with, contains;
But, if the account which I've heard be the true one,
We shall have it, no doubt, before long, in a new one.

In an MS., then sold
For its full weight in gold,
And knock'd down to my friend, Lord Tomnoddy, I'm told
It's recorded that Jessy, coquettish and vain,
Gave her husband, Lorenzo, a good deal of pain;
Being mildly rebuked, she levanted again,
Ran away with a Scotchman, and, crossing the main,
Became known by the name of the 'Flower of Dumblane.'

That Antonio, whose piety caused, as we've seen,
Him to spit upon every old Jew's gaberdine,
And whose goodness to paint
All colours were faint,
Acquired the well-merited prefix of 'Saint,'
And the Doge, his admirer, of honour the fount,
Having given him a patent, and made him a Count,
He went over to England, got nat'ralis'd there,
And espous'd a rich heiress in Hanover Square.

That Shylock came with him; no longer a Jew,
But converted, I think may be possibly true,
But that Walpole, as these self-same papers aver,
By changing the y in his name into er,
Should allow him a fictitious surname to dish up,
And in Seventeen-twenty-eight make him a Bishop,
I cannot believe--but shall still think them two men
Till some Sage proves the fact 'with his usual acumen.'


From this tale of the Bard
It's uncommonly hard
If an editor can't draw a moral.--'Tis clear,
Then,-- In ev'ry young wife-seeking Bachelor's ear
A maxim, 'bove all other stories, this one drums,

To new-married ladies this lesson it teaches,
'You're "no that far wrong" in assuming the breeches!'

Monied men upon 'Change, and rich Merchants it schools
To look well to assets -- nor play with edge tools!
Last of all, this remarkable History shows men,
What caution they need when they deal with old-clothesmen!
So bid John and Mary
To mind and be wary,
And never let one of them come down the are'

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