English

Dear David Harum, your quaint wisdom comes
Fresh from the land we love to call our own.
It is the bird that sings, the bee that hums,
The wind that blows across a grove o'ergrown;
In him who voices you, you live again,
We know not which is Harum, —
Which is Crane!

Our Ethel Barrymore,
Queen of Queens
In Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines,
Has made us thrill as she laughs and leans,
To the Captain in the army.
For she is a Siren through and through,
And she calls to me and she calls to you,
That is the way that Sirens do,
To the Captains in Life's Army.

Creator by your rare impersonation
Of Melisande, a Master's fine creation,
At your seductive charm, we cry again,
" May God have pity on the hearts of men. "

Have you heard of Jack Marbury, he from the West?
He's a terror at cards —
But his heart is the best.
Oh! the maids he caressed,
And the sins he confessed.
But he's white just the same
For he'll take all the blame, —
Have you heard of Jack Marbury, he from the West?

Hermione, thine was a " Winter's Tale, "
Chill winds of foul suspicion did prevail;
Thou, ever blameless,
Overborne by blame,
Thou, never shameless,
Crucified by shame.
Hermione, we weep thy hapless fate,
So swiftly sentenced,
Justified so late!

Could " Everyman " and every woman too,
But hear your voice as we were wont to do,
In deep rich tones invoking prayer or praise,
Then Every Man were better all his days.

I am the Tragic Muse;
Born of the web of my brain,
Lo! my children shall pass,
Poverty, Pathos, and Pain;
Labor, — and Love forsworn,
Each in their turn I name.
Jealousy, evil born
Sorrow, and Sin and Shame.
I am the World's despair,
I am the heart's despite,
Woven of me is fear,
Shadow of mine is night;
I am the Muse that weeps,
Out of my grief is Strife,
Tragedy, I am called,
I am the mirror of Life!

I AM the Comic Muse,
Soft as the summer rain,
Come the children I bear
Out of the breath of my brain;
Love, — and Laughter that lifts,
Joy with the lilt of a song,
Beauty that's born of praise,
And Faith that has righted wrong.
I am the heart of a child,
I am the trust of a maid,
Spirit and passion of man,
Love that is unbetrayed;
I am the Muse that smiles,
Lo! and gladness is rife,
Comedy, I am called,
I am the mirror of Life.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Aristotle, Phocion.

Aris. Long have I us'd that light which cleares my minde,
On natures labours curiously to look,
And (of all creatures finding out the kinde)
Have read strange wonders in the worlds great book:
I mark her course by contraries maintain'd,
Whose harmony doth most subsist by strife,
And of all creatures in the same contain'd,
How various is the mystery of life?
But as all things are subject unto change,

ACT IV. SCENE I .

Antigonus, Eumenes.

Ant. Though stormy discord, and tumultuous wars,
Doe fire the mindes of men with flames of rage,
That (hauing haughty thoughts, as heaven hath starres)
Their indignation nothing can asswage:
Yet loe, amongst the souldiers waving bowres,
The heraulds cryes doe calme the trumpets sounds;
And peace dare interpose unarmed pow'rs,
To limit for a time Bellona's bounds;
And (whilst of fury they suspend th' effects)