Generating Sparks

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,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

—

William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus 

I love Shakespeare’s villans, some of them are just so gleefully diabolical. I may have blogged this before but it’s featured in a song by one of my favourite bands so it gets stuck in my head a lot.  

(via playsplay-by-play)

I blogged this in my theatre-themed blog but it’s to badass not to share with all the rest of ya’ll