head> Aurea Mediocritas

    eisencorgi:

    lord-kitschener:

    farewelldecency:

    cheesiestart:

    fullmetalbrony:

    farewelldecency:

    To forage or not to forage, that is the question:
    Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to hunger
    for the nuts and berries of outrageous fortune
    Or to hibernate in before the coming chills of winter,
    And by opposing to sleep at all. To eat- to sleep-
    No more; and by a sleep to say we end
    The hunger, and the thousand natural shocks
    That the stomach is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish’d. To hunger- to sleep.

    SHAKESBEAR

    I am a bear. Hath not a bear eyes?

    Hath not a bear paws, muzzle, dimensions, senses, affections, passions,

    Fed with the same honey, hurt by the same bees

    subject to the same hunters, maul by the same claws?

    Warm’d and cool’d by the same winter and summer, as a moose is?

    If you prick us, do we not roar?

    If you tickle us, do we not bear hug?

    If you poison us, do we not get tummy aches?

    And if you wrong us, do we not revenge?

    If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.

    But, soft! what light through yonder tree bows breaks?
    It is the east, and Honey is the sun.
    Fall down, fair honey, and kill my paining hunger,
    Who is already rumbly and grumbly from this morning’s breakfast, 
    That mine lunch art far more fair than breakfast:
    Be not that meal, since it is envious;
    Those berries were but sick and green
    And none but cubs would eat them; cast them off.
    It is my lunch, O, it is my love! 
    O, that sweetness knew it were!
    It drips yet it still stays above my head: what of that?
    Her hive discourses; I will answer it.
    I am too bold, ‘tis not to me it drips:
    The sweetest liquid gold in all the lands, 
    Having some business, do entreat that hive
    To twinkle against the comb till they return.
    What if the liquid were there, they in those combs?
    The brightness of that hive would shame those stars,
    As daylight doth a cave; her gold in those walls.
    Would through the dark region stream so bright
    That bats would sleep and think it were not night.
    See, how it continues to flow above my head!
    O, that I were a bee upon that gold,
    That I might touch that gold!

    Shakesbear wanted to break out of his typecast role in Twelfth Night.

    SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK

    (Source: faedee, via hotstalin-deactivated20140311)

  1 year ago    2,828 notes
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eisencorgi:

lord-kitschener:

farewelldecency:

cheesiestart:

fullmetalbrony:

farewelldecency:

To forage or not to forage, that is the question:Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to hungerfor the nuts and berries of outrageous fortuneOr to hibernate in before the coming chills of winter,And by opposing to sleep at all. To eat- to sleep-No more; and by a sleep to say we endThe hunger, and the thousand natural shocksThat the stomach is heir to. ‘Tis a consummationDevoutly to be wish’d. To hunger- to sleep.

SHAKESBEAR

I am a bear. Hath not a bear eyes?
Hath not a bear paws, muzzle, dimensions, senses, affections, passions,
Fed with the same honey, hurt by the same bees
subject to the same hunters, maul by the same claws?
Warm’d and cool’d by the same winter and summer, as a moose is?
If you prick us, do we not roar?
If you tickle us, do we not bear hug?
If you poison us, do we not get tummy aches?
And if you wrong us, do we not revenge?
If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.

But, soft! what light through yonder tree bows breaks?It is the east, and Honey is the sun.Fall down, fair honey, and kill my paining hunger,Who is already rumbly and grumbly from this morning’s breakfast, That mine lunch art far more fair than breakfast:Be not that meal, since it is envious;Those berries were but sick and greenAnd none but cubs would eat them; cast them off.It is my lunch, O, it is my love! O, that sweetness knew it were!It drips yet it still stays above my head: what of that?Her hive discourses; I will answer it.I am too bold, ‘tis not to me it drips:The sweetest liquid gold in all the lands, Having some business, do entreat that hiveTo twinkle against the comb till they return.What if the liquid were there, they in those combs?The brightness of that hive would shame those stars,As daylight doth a cave; her gold in those walls.Would through the dark region stream so brightThat bats would sleep and think it were not night.See, how it continues to flow above my head!O, that I were a bee upon that gold,That I might touch that gold!

Shakesbear wanted to break out of his typecast role in Twelfth Night.

SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK