Monday, May 20, 2013

Suburbs of My Discontent

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears,and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again. (3.2.134-42)

Ah, a weekend away with good friends! As I sipped champagne at The Four Seasons in Philly, I couldn't help but think of Caliban's poetic materialism. 

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