AI Generated Story: Hannibal,My Courtier,—I do beseech youThat I may call the man by his proper name,To whom I have entrusted this dire businessOf late days; and by those
Hannibal,
My Courtier,—I do beseech you
That I may call the man by his proper name,
To whom I have entrusted this dire business
Of late days; and by those which he hath been attending,
And the noble Alarum by his noble title,
This night I will forget. There, good Hannibal,
My dog and my wife shall be: and your fair Jean,
The loveable Clara will be denoted by your noble
Name. Giue no loveable and lonely face toward the
earth, but fetch it company of strangers’; for strangers’ denoteors
by the flag of truce.
Hannibal. Heaven forbid I should endure to see these faces!
Giue to each his due; for ’t is their end
Together, no mere due and proper name, but they are worth
Overseas.—I am sure the same God who made me
Agetter himself, with his purple Gulf,
And rose in the clouds to the great question
Which it really considered, created man and his Maker
To each his merit and not made by his exterior Make.
Hannibal. Giue to each his due respective to his worth.
Costay’d famili’s, no more, no more: vain gods do
Not create with their own colors, but with the flagrant
shamilies of warhead: no more create, then can I God,
The better be their god.
Costay, and no more, make war upon them.
Costay, and no more, become conflagrations of made-believe,
Every color they touch crosses into black and gold,
And makes the deep and dark oceans turn
Like streams of water.
And for the seats so farcross’d, such floods and turns
Cannot be filled with water, for hills that have
swept the plain in the flood neither time nor practice,
And keeping out the wind, have no end; for the
alley solders and seamer do open the flood
Even when the short distance is small.
Costay, and no more, enter neighboring men;
And on each of them present go and offer
To the two sides sacrifice of man and dog,
And wring your hand and saying, What, shall we do?
Or stand and bow our heads and say, Nay,
Then the gossips are for thrall, and the drunkards
Are for side, and the steep-divers are for abseiling,
We are done say or so farwel’d.
Enter.
Costay and Costay.
Montano, hast thou got a word with my Lord?
Hannibal.
I haue something to tell thee, but I cannot
Tell thee at this time.
Montano, I pray thee, what?
Costay.
With terrible shouting from ’em.
Hannibal.
Help!—What ho, ho! What ho! Help!!!!!!!?
Montano falls.
The men scramble in the roadway, and as they fall
some run toward the houses, some run away and break their bones.
Costay falls.
Another time. A strong crash cheers the citizens
home. Another:—
—Why, fools, why, why!—
Take the bridge, ho! and home the citizens! home
the citizens! home the bridge!—
Costay falls.
EXT. CANAL VETERINAGUE—TO CANAL VETERINAGUE—Camp No. 2—Camp No. 1, Helena, Missouri—midafter day’s journey
10 August 1894—a gloating, flourishing and flourishing city,
in the hands and minds of the public, where the great new artist
Louis Remarque, clothed in rich natural-gowne and conspicuous in his
monuments, congregated, to promote his colossal machine, at
five o’clock in the morning, no time to move, and with no one
to speak to, he drewlessly and joyfully displayed his colossal machine,
with his magnificent hands and feet, for a minute and a half,
until the jocund crowd were sad, his machine was lost, no music was
recorded, and the minute came to define, for everybody saw it
as Louis drew and painted as he went about his business. The minute
it was lost, the moment it was gained, the moment it was
lost, the community was distressed, and now, in the midst of a
restaurant scene, with flashing lights and flashing
objects aplode GIs flashing like hieroglyphs, the citizens