About Me
Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my curse,--
Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
as kill a man, or else devise his death,
ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
accuse some innocent and forswear myself,
Set deadly enmity between two friends,
make poor men's cattle break their necks;
set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
and bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
and set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
and on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
"Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead."
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly.
