ULYSSES in «Troilus und Cressida»

    Bewertung: 5 / 5

    Stern aktivStern aktivStern aktivStern aktivStern aktiv

    3. Act, 3. Scene 

    Ulysses and Achilles. 

    Buch kaufen

    1445564 1445564 XlULYSSES: 
    Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
    Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
    A great-sized monster of ingratitudes.
    Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured
    As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
    As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
    Keeps honor bright; to have done, is to hang
    Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
    In monumental mock'ry. Take the instant way;
    For honor travels in a strait so narrow
    Where one but goes abreast. Keep, then, the path;
    For emulation hath a thousand sons
    That one by one pursue. If you give way,
    Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
    Like to an ent'red tide they all rush by
    And leave you hindmost;
    [Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
    Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
    O'errun and trampled on.] Then what they do in present,
    Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;
    For time is like fashionable host,
    That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand,
    And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly,
    Grasps in the comer. The welcome ever smiles,
    And farewell goes out sighing. Let not virtue seek
    Remuneration for the thing it was. For beauty, wit,
    High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service,
    Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
    To envious and calumniating time.
    One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
    That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
    Though they are made and moulded of things past,
    And give to dust that is a little gilt
    More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
    The present eye praises the present object.
    Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
    That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax;
    Since things in motion sooner catch the eye
    That what not stirs. The cry went once on thee,
    And still it might, and yet it may again,
    If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive
    And case thy reputation in thy tent;
    Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
    Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves
    And drave great Mars to faction.

    Sitb Sticker V3 Xsmall. CB485946477


    PDF-Datei: 29,95 € 23,95 €


    Weitere Formate auf Amazon & Play:
    Taschenbuch / Kindle: 39,95 €
    Google eBook: 29,95 €




    AUF DER BÜHNE © 2024

    Toggle Bar