a little ere the mightiest julius fell,
the graves stood tenantless and the suits of solemn black,
nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
no, nor the fruitful river in the sky.
as your bright and tiny spark,
he could not see which way to heaven;
whiles, like a diamond in the roman streets:
as stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
disasters in the same covenant,
and carriage of the land.
i think i hear them. stand, ho! who's there?
enter horatio and marcellus,
the rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
i think it was about to speak, when the blazing sun is gone,
when he nothing shines upon,
then you show your little light,
twinkle, twinkle, all the holy vows of heaven
where now it burns, marcellus and bernardo, on their watch,
in the land,
and why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
and foreign mart for implements of war;
why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
does not grow alone
in thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
the inward service of the cock.
some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
wherein our saviour's birth is celebrated,
the bird of dawning singeth all night long:
and then, they say, you spirits oft walk in death.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Hamlet vs. Twinkle, twinkle, little star
Give a markov chain a childs rhyme, a dash of Hamlet and behold! Hamlet's little star: