Template:Dsh NDA: Difference between revisions
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{{dia|Herculio|Secrecy? Do my deceitful ears mislead?<br> | {{dia|Herculio|Secrecy? Do my deceitful ears mislead?<br> | ||
Say it again, my friend: ''secrecy'', didst thou say?}} | Say it again, my friend: ''secrecy'', didst thou say?}} | ||
{{dia|Triago|I did, my Lord, I did. A trifling confi. An [[NDA|N.D.A.]] | {{dia|Triago|I did, my Lord, I did. A trifling confi. An [[NDA|N.D.A.]]}} |
Latest revision as of 10:43, 11 September 2024
Triago: There! That! Didst thou see ’t?
The card-sharp’s fumbling misdirect?
That tell-tale grin or worldly wink that
Cracks heav’n apart and for a twinkling
Throws rude light upon perfidious conjury!
Spy the dark-clad stage boy! How he flies —
Yet bolts a trice too late to beat the curtain’s rise.
Enter Herculio eating an apple.
Herculio: How now, sweet Triago. What sorrow?
Triago: A browful, sir. In foreign paper, densely ink’d.
Herculio: Pray tell. (Aside) I would pray there were a choice
Had my prayers a hope of answer.
Triago: See here, Herculio. ’Tis a slip. Behold the oily wires.
O, Trickery! O, Falsity! Mark the cagey fingers
Cross’d behind thy back!
O, my career! My toil! My dreary occupation!
Has it all been but a prank, Herculio?
This long and wretched shift: just some saucy jape?
Herculio: All well-meant, good Triago. Be not sour —
These are not grapes.
Triago: Indeed not sir: rather, scrapes.
And scars and knocks — the job-lot doggedly sustained.
Herculio: (Aside) Some more than others. The odd one feigned.
But come, Sir Tig: what unrests you here?
Triago: (waving paper) A tract from a brother clerk in America.
Herculio: Cripes abroad. Grim tidings?
Triago: Forsooth: it wears the colours of a fight.
A word-scape stain’d with tightly kernèd face
And girded round with fontish weaponry.
Herculio: (inspecting the document) Verily, convenantry this dark
Speaks of litiginous untrust.
Wherefore such cruel indemnities?
Wherefore so dry a want of fun?
A merchant wrapp’d with better sense
Would just as soon injunct th’orbiting sun.
What is this pact, Triago? Who demands
Such fearsome consequence?
Triago: An entente of secrecy, no more.
Herculio: Secrecy? Do my deceitful ears mislead?
Say it again, my friend: secrecy, didst thou say?
Triago: I did, my Lord, I did. A trifling confi. An N.D.A.