from Rumour's tongues...

Aug 09, 2007 20:44

Word on the 'vine is I'll be getting promoted to a "supervisory" position...I do so feel sorry for my soon-to-be subordinates if this is true.

Open your ears; for which of you will stop     
     The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?     
     I, from the orient to the drooping west,     
     Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold     
     The acts commenced on this ball of earth:     
     Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,     
     The which in every language I pronounce,     
     Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.     
     I speak of peace, while covert enmity     
     Under the smile of safety wounds the world:     
     And who but Rumour, who but only I,     
     Make fearful musters and prepared defence,     
     Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief,     
     Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,   
     And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe     
     Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures     
     And of so easy and so plain a stop     
     That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,     
     The still-discordant wavering multitude,   
     Can play upon it.

poemz, workz

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