FIND THE SHAKESPEARE

Our first class investigation into authenticity...

FIND THE SHAKESPEARE

A.        What is’t thou sayst?  Her voice was ever soft

            And low, sweet music o’er the rippling stream,

            Quality rare and excellent in woman.  

            O yes, by Heavens, ‘twas I killed the slave

            That did round thy soft neck the murderous

            And damned cord entwine.

B.         What is’t thou sayst?  Her voice was ever soft,

            Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.

            I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee.

A         O, from this Time forth,

            My Thoughts be bloody all!  the hour is come—

            I’ll fly my keepers—sweep to my revenge.

B.         O, from this time forth,

            My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

A.     

A.          Two truths are told,

             As happy prologues to the swelling act

             Of the imperial theme…

             This supernatural soliciting

             Cannot be ill, cannot be good.

B.         This may be prologue to the name of King.

            Less Titles shou’d the greater still forerun,

            The morning star do’s usher in the Sun.

            This strange prediction in as strange a manner

            Deliver’d; neither can be good nor ill.