it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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Okay, I did damned good today.

Cool link:


Wordcount: 3,064
Reason for stopping: I am starving to death, my shoulder hurts, and Act II, scene xi is done, done, done.

What happens in Act II, scene xii? I haven't a clue, and I don't give a fig.

I may care tomorrow. Or I may not.

Elizabethan Ponyboy Bondage Smut!

What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is soft?
Or why slips downe the Coverlet so oft?
Although the nights be long, I sleepe not tho,
My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro.
Were Love the cause, it's like I shoulde descry him,
Or lies he close, and shoots where none can spie him?
T'was so, he stroke me with a slender dart,
Tis cruell love turmoyles my captive hart.
Yeelding or striving doe we give him might,
Lets yeeld, a burden easly borne is light.
I saw a brandisht fire increase in strength,
Which being not shakt, I saw it die at length.
Yong oxen newly yokt are beaten more,
Then oxen which have drawne the plow before.
And rough jades mouths with stubburn bits are tome,
But managde horses heads are lightly borne,
Unwilling Lovers, love doth more torment,
Then such as in their bondage feele content.
Loe I confesse, I am thy captive I,
And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie.

--Ovid, Elegies, translated by Christopher Marlowe

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