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And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.
But as we often see against some storm
A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region. So, after Pyrrhus' pause,
Arousèd vengeance sets him new a-work.
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars’s armor forged for proof eterne
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods
In general synod take away her power,
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
As low as to the fiends!
But the wind created by his sword is enough to make
The weakened old man fall. Just then the city of Ilium,
As if feeling this fatal blow to its ruler,
Collapses in flames, and the crash
Captures Pyrrhus’s attention. His sword,
Which was falling onto Priam’s white-haired head
Seemed to hang in the air.
Pyrrhus stood there like a man in a painting,
Doing nothing.
But just as a raging thunderstorm
Is often interrupted by a moment’s silence,
And then soon after the region is split apart by dreadful thunderclaps,
In the same way, after Pyrrhus paused,
His newly awakened fury set him to work again.
When the Cyclopses were making unbreakable armor
For the god of war, their hammers never fell
So mercilessly as Pyrrhus’s bloody sword
Now falls on Priam.
Get out of here, Lady Luck, you whore! All you gods
Should come together to rob her of her powers,
Break all the spokes on her wheel of fortune,
And send it rolling down the hills of heaven
Into the depths of hell.

This is too long.
This speech is going on too long.

It shall to the barber’s, with your beard.—Prithee, say on. He’s for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on. Come to Hecuba.
We’ll have the barber trim it later, along with your beard. Please, continue, players. This old man only likes the dancing or the sex scenes; he sleeps through all the rest. Go on, come to the part about Hecuba.

But who, ah woe, who had seen the moblèd queen
But who—ah, the sadness—had seen the muffled queen—

“The moblèd queen”?
“The muffled queen”?

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Hamlet (No Fear Shakespeare)

1984 (SparkNotes Literature Guide Series)