King.
Nay, I have pondered and my bark of thought
Strikes on this point of peril. There's no choice
But of two sides I must take arms 'gainst one,
And either were a war of magnitude.
Here then you have the naked shell: stark hull,
Triced on the stocks, all rivets driven home,
And all her timbers strained and drawn together,
As 'twere, with shipwright's winches. Once at sea
She's bound for loss before she comes to land.
When there is jettison of merchandize,
By the good grace of Zeus the Garnisher
More may be gotten, a full load to freight
A ship of deeper draught. And, if the tongue
Shoot wildly, for the wound that words inflict
Words will apply the remedy, a balm
For angry humours, spell and counterspell:
But, that there be no letting of the blood
Of kin, compels to earnest sacrifice,
And many victims unto many gods,
Where'er men ask of oracles, must fall,
Preservatives against calamity.
My entrance to this quarrel comes unsought
And every way 'tis to my own undoing.
I'd rather be a seer of little skill
Than deeply learned in prophesying ill:
So, though my judgment goes not with the prayer,
Out of these troubles Heaven send issue fair.
Chorus.
Hear the conclusion, then, of my much speech
That meant to move your pity.
