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Chop Bard

In Your Ear Shakespeare

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The show dedicated to revealing the plays of William Shakespeare as tasty entertainment for today’s hungry audience. Be you actor or observer, this show offers a fresh look at some very old goods.
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Shakespeare Sundays with Chop Bard

Ehren Ziegler: Actor, Artist, Shakespeare enthusiast

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Shakespeare Sundays with Chop Bard, is a practical, and enthusiastic exploration of William Shakespeare’s work. Each episode will take on a single subject taken from his words, lines, poetry, themes, or resources, in order to better understand them, and find out what use can be made of them.
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The little Love-god, lying once asleep, Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep Came tripping by, but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire, Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd, And so the general of hot desire Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. This brand she que…
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Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep; A maid of Dian's this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love A dateless lively heat, still to endure, And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. But at my …
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In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn In vowing new hate after new love bearing. But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most, For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is …
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Love is too young to know what conscience is, Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: For thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, But ri…
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O, from what pow'r hast thou this pow'rful might With insufficiency my heart to sway, To make me give the lie to my true sight, And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, That in the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds…
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Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not, When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee when I forgot Am of myself, all tyrant for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? Nay, if thou low'r'st on me, do I not spend Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in myse…
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O me! What eyes hath Love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight, Or if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, How…
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My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now …
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Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Feeding these rebel pow'rs that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? Then, sou…
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Those lips that Love's own hand did make Breath'd forth the sound that said "I hate" To me that languish'd for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that, ever sweet, Was us'd in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet: "I hate" she alter'd with an end That follow'd it as …
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Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman color'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride. And whether that my angel be …
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Lo as a careful huswife runs to catch One of her feathered creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies before her face, Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; …
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Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving, Or if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments, And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their …
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In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note, But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote; Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone…
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Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain, Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express The manner of my pity-wanting pain. If I might teach thee wit, better it were, Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so, As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, No news but health from their physicians know; …
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O, call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere, but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside; What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o'erpress'd defe…
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When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtilties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue; On both sides thus is simple truth s…
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Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, That they behold and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is take the worst to be. If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks, Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, Whereto the judgment of my heart is …
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If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfill. Will will fulfill the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. In things of great receipt with ease we prove Among a number one is reckon'd n…
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Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will, And Will to boot, and Will in overplus; More than enough am I that vex thee still, To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right gracious, And in my will no fair acceptance shine? The sea, al…
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So now I have confess'd that he is thine, And I myself am mortgag'd to thy will, Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still: But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous, and he is kind; He learn'd but surety-like to write for me Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. The statute of th…
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Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, And my next self thou harder hast engrossed: Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken, A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross…
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Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the grey cheeks of th' east, Nor that full star that ushers in the even Doth half that glory to the sober west, As those two mo…
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