"What knavery is this," I heard
As on an empty stage stood I
The Bard watching me with disdain
"Those words, though meant
To be heard by the human ear
were meant to be spoken by the ages
And not by the human imperfect voice"
I stopped to watch him there
As he steped out of the shadows
"To Be or Not To Be
Friends, Romans, Countrymen,
The Winter of our discontent...
Ah, those are such musical words"
I stood there and watched him leave
And noticed the audience fade into sight
He stopped at the stage
Gave a gentle wave
And left his words to the ages
"Else the noble Puck a liar be"
We see the light of those
Who find the world has passed them by
Too late to save a dream from growing cold...