Macbird! [antikvár]

PROLOGUE \Enter middle-aged man dressed in standard business attire^ except for a plume in his hat and a toy sword at his waist.'\ O, for a fireless muse, that could descend From kingdoms, princes, monarchs and the like To common themes of marital affairs, Of young romance and adolescent strife; Then should our war-like leaders not appear Upon this stage in false resemblances I 'Twixt princes of the present and the past. O pardon, gentles, these bright-painted spirits, That, drawn too clear, seem more than what they say. Can costumed kings who sweep across this stage With antique garb and flashing swords of old Be likened to our sober-suited leaders. Who plot in prose their laceless, graceless deeds? And think you that within these wooden walls Can be confined two warring dynasties. With swelling hosts of hacks, and clerks and claques Whose high upreared and abutting prides Now rip a ruling monolith asunder? Can these bare boards support the vast machines That now sustain two modem monarchies? No, this weak wood but holds the airy actors Who here portray fantastic lords of yore. O, don't employ your own imaginations To piece out imperfections in our plot. For things that seem, I beg you, know no seeming;