tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post8209320218367297118..comments2024-01-28T03:56:39.351-08:00Comments on TOM CLARK: But can my children eat an electronic card? / William Blake: Old Corruption's SongUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-55843168350479431312016-05-11T15:01:31.241-07:002016-05-11T15:01:31.241-07:00[An Island in the Moon, cont.]
QUID:
Wh...[An Island in the Moon, cont.]<br /><br />QUID: <br /><br /> When Old Corruption first begun, <br /> Adorn'd in yellow vest, <br /> He committed on Flesh a whoredom-- <br /> O, what a wicked beast! <br /><br /> From them a callow babe did spring, <br /> And Old Corruption smil'd <br /> To think his race should never end, <br /> For now he had a child. <br /><br /> He call'd him Surgery, & fed <br /> The babe with his own milk, <br /> For Flesh & he could ne'er agree, <br /> She would not let him suck. <br /><br /> And this he always kept in mind, <br /> And formed a crooked knife, <br /> And ran about with bloody hands <br /> To seek his mother's life. <br /><br /> And as he ran to seek his mother <br /> He met with a dead woman, <br /> He fell in love & married her, <br /> A deed which is not common. <br /><br /> She soon grew pregnant & brought forth <br /> Scurvy & Spott'd Fever. <br /> The father grinn'd & skipt about, <br /> And said, "I'm made for ever!" <br /><br /> "For now I have procur'd these imps <br /> I'll try experiments." <br /> With that he tied poor Scurvy down <br /> & stopt up all its vents. <br /><br /> And when the child began to swell, <br /> He shouted out aloud, <br /> "I've found the dropsy out, & soon <br /> Shall do the world more good." <br /><br /> He took up Fever by the neck <br /> And cut out all its spots, <br /> And thro the holes which he had made <br /> He first discover'd guts.<br /><br />[end song grabbing SIPSOP'S cat] SIPSOP: Ah, you think we are rascals, and we think you are rascals. I do as I choose. What is it to anybody what I do? I'm always unhappy, too, when I think of surgery; I don't know, I do it because I like to. My father does what he likes and so do I. I think, somehow. . . let it be. There was a woman having her cancer cut, and she shrieked so that I was quite sick. Good night. [puts head down on table] SUCTION: Good night. QUID: Good Night. <br />I think that Homer is bombast, and Shakespeare is too wild, and Milton has no feelings. They might be easily outdone. [grabs ARADOBO out of his seat] Chatterton, though, never wrote those poems! A parcel of fools, going to Bristol . . . if I were to go, I'd find it out in a minute [whispers] but I've found it out already . . . now if I don't knock them all up next year in the exhibition, I'll be hanged. SUCTION: Hang Philosophy! I don't give a fart for it. Do all by your feelings, man, feelings, and never think at all about it.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-37888835674835457562016-05-11T15:00:37.406-07:002016-05-11T15:00:37.406-07:00In case anybody's interested on the context fo...In case anybody's interested on the context for the Blake song:<br /><br />ARADOBO: [to GIMBLET, staring at her breasts] Is Chatterton a mathematician? OBTUSE ANGLE: No. How can you be so foolish as to think he was? ARADOBO: Oh, I did not think he was; I only asked. OBTUSE ANGLE: How could you think he was not, and ask if he was? ARADOBO: Oh no, sir. I did not think he was, before you told me, but afterwards I thought he was not. OBTUSE ANGLE: In the first place you thought he was, and then afterwards when I said he was not, you thought he was not. Why, I know that . . . ARADOBO: Oh no, sir, I thought that he was not, but I asked to know whether he was. OBTUSE ANGLE: How can that be? How could you ask and think that he was not? ARADOBO: Why, it came into my head that he was not. OBTUSE ANGLE: Why then did you say that he was? ARADOBO: Did I say so? Shit. I did not think I said that. OBTUSE ANGLE: Didn't he? PHILOSOPHERS: Yes. ARADOBO: But I meant, I, I, I can't think. Damn. Sir, I wish you'd tell me how it is. OBTUSE ANGLE: [chin in hand] Whenever you think, you must always think for yourself. ARADOBO: How, sir? [chin in hand] Whenever I think, I must think myself? I think I do. In the first place... OBTUSE ANGLE: Poo! Poo! Don't be a fool.<br /><br />SUCTION: Hang the mathematics! QUID: Let's have some rum and water. [goes to bar] SIPSOP: Mr. Aradobo? ARADOBO: [Walks to PHILOSOPHERS' table; SIPSOP and SUCTION stand, he takes QUID'S seat; they circle him. All conducted with the solemnity of an oral examination.] SUCTION: Tell us, Mr. Aradobo, about Chatterton. ARADOBO: In the first place I think, I think in the first place that Chatterton was clever at Fissic, Follogy, Pistinology, Aridology, Arography, Transmography, Phizorgraphy, Hogamy, Hatomy, and hall that, but, in the first place he eat wery little, wickly -- that is, he slept very little which he brought into a consumsion; and what was that that he took? Fissic or somethink -- and so died! <br /><br />[Examiners and everyone else is quite impressed by answer. SUCTION and SIPSOP circle once more]<br />SUCTION: Was Pindar a better poet than Giotto was a painter? SIPSOP: Plutarch didn't write the life of Giotto. QUID: [from the bar] No, to be sure, he was an Italian. SUCTION: Well, that is not any proof. QUID: [marches into the fray] Plutarch was a nasty ignorant puppy. I hate your sneaking rascals. Here's Aradobo [pounds him on the back] who, in 20, 10, or 12 years, will be a far superior genius. SIPSOP: Ah! Aradobo [pounds him on the back] will make a very clever fellow. QUID: Of course, any natural fool would make a clever fellow, if he was brought up properly. [pounds him on the back] SUCTION: Hang your reasoning! I hate reasoning. I do everything by my feelings. SIPSOP: Ah! I only wish Jack Tearguts had the cutting of Plutarch. He understands anatomy better than any of the ancients. [stands on his chair] He'll plunge his knife up to the hilt in a single drive and thrust his fist in, and all in the space of a quarter of an hour. He doesn't mind their crying, though they cry ever so. [leans on ARADOBO] He'll swear at them and keep them down with his fist, and tell them that he'll scrape their bones if they don't lay still and be quiet. QUID: [eye to eye with SIPSOP] Why the Hell should people who get it for nothing make such a fuss anyway? SUCTION: Hang that shit, let's have a song.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.com