passing

In this I know it passing well, where whence the spigot turned its tell and now I tell you mysterious lay of shining baubles, glistening hay. Oh, aye, take note, take note, tis well that gargoyles gargle - for tis not a bell; Then take ride upon the eventide where bloodwake ripples in sunset's stride, for I have no care of seeming please to make my heart beat in with lease, just so that thou might take my place and mutter amidst thy brainless wastes. Oh, thou thoughtest I knewest not and nay, here I am, to thy face absurd. Then wait for it, wait for it, your angry SHOUT when thy truest will comes rise about. Tch. Wilt thou not speak my happy foe? Wilt thou not hear of deeds well low? How in the night, under cover of dark, thou tookest my dearest and left there your mark? Or how in westerly blowing wind thou didst set alight my only park? I tell thee, nay, I adjure thee, get thee hence. I'll not see thy face no more - no wisp, no lisp, no more masking. Hence!

What? Think you I mad? Twas not my doing, no, nor my reasoning. For thou heardest of what befell my fate and sad, you did what you had long a-wait.
Go to, go to, old friend, twice fell. I'll remember thee to eastern shores, thy name upon the weather mores. Oh, all eyes will keep, aye. All eyes will keep for sight of thee, that no more injure me my sores. And then in misty dawn you rise, wishing still to take my prize, but I know thee. Oh, I know thee, my most ancient foe and I'll not lease to thee my remaining cause.



Oh, the joys of hearing Shakespeare. That language really gets stuck in your head.