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LXXIV



But be contented: when that fell arrest

Without all bail shall carry me away,

My life hath in this line some interest,

Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.

When thou reviewest this, thou dost review

The very part was consecrate to thee:

The earth can have but earth, which is his due;

My spirit is thine, the better part of me:

So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,

The prey of worms, my body being dead;

The coward conquest of a wretch\'s knife,

Too base of thee to be remembered,.

  The worth of that is that which it contains,

  And that is this, and this with thee remains.

 	--William Shakespeare

Playwriting gets into your blood and you can\'t stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.
T. S. Eliot

CXLIV



Two loves I have of comfort and despair,

Which like two spirits do suggest me still:

The better angel is a man right fair,

The worser spirit a woman colour\'d ill.

To win me soon to hell, my female evil,

Tempteth my better angel from my side,

And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,

Wooing his purity with her foul pride.

And whether that my angel be turn\'d fiend,

Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;

But being both from me, both to each friend,

I guess one angel in another\'s hell:

  Yet this shall I ne\'er know, but live in doubt, 

  Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

 	--William Shakespeare