In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.Psychologies by Sir Ross Ronald (the gingerbread man read aloud txt) đź“–
- Author: Sir Ross Ronald
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Frogs. A friend! I come!Kilkillutty cluck,
Clickutty cluck, clickutty cluck,
Click, cluck.
Melfort. Click, cluck.No answer.
Melfort. Click, cluck.No answer.Ho!
A friend! Give answer. Let me hear you
That I may find you.
Frogs. That I may find you.Hiccutty hac,
Hiccutty, huccutty, hiccutty hac.
Hicutty.
Melfort.Strange; nothing replies.
I plunge here like a dog at loss;
And all the sleeping startled pools
Exclaim against me, and the flowers—
Deep-drowsèd water-lilies—wake
In nodding wonder.
In nodding wonder.A friend! I come!
Give answer! Ho!
Efts. Give answer! Ho!Tiu, Tiu,
Tiu, Tiu.
Melfort. No one replies.
Pools, pools, and water everywhere,
And midnight and the dying moon!
I am afraid, and my knees tremble.
No answer. Hush. There’s nothing stirs,
Save only the frogs in bubbled mire
And yonder swaying bulrushes
That by battalions beckon each other
In the murky moon. Look how—look how
The ghostly globes of fairy fire
Ooze from the marsh-mire and creep up
Their callow stems and leap in air,
Becoming fen-fires. Listen! Hark!
The croaking chorus of the fen.
Toads.Glick, gluck, glickutty gluck,
Glickutty, glickutty, glickutty gluck.
Melfort.See, see, my soul! O what is this?
A snake?—A steel that gleaming lies!
O my unerring ears—a dagger!
Frogs.Kil, kul, kil, kul,
Killutty, kul.
Melfort. Killutty, kul.The dagger is bloody!
The villain has stolen away his victim!
Stay, murderer, villain!
Frogs. Stay, murderer, villain!Hic, huc,
Hiccutty huc.
Melfort. Hiccutty huc.Here’s a deed!
But look you now upon this thing
Here by the livid moonlight seen.
Strange that this dagger so should drip
With blood yet be as bloody still
As ’twas before! It runs for ever.
See from the point a bloody stream
Runs on for ever, soaking earth!
I am enchanted! Ha, I gasp!
Are these but frogs that cry around—
Ten myriad frogs and toads that cry—
“Kill kill, kill, kill”?—Whom should I kill?
Frogs.Kil, kul, killutty kul,
Kil kil kil, kil kil kul.
Melfort.See, see in the moonlight—there on the bank—
A horror that lies!
A horror that lies!O pitiful God!
Look here! O pitiful sight!—dead, dead!
A maiden; and murdered and so pale!
What, here in the marsh!—A maiden—dead!
Chorus.SĂşmph, sĂşmph, sĂşmph, sĂşmph.
Melfort.So beautiful, young, and yet so dead?
They have robbed her—the villains—and gone!
They have robbed her—the villains—and gone!See here,
A pitiful wound in the lovely breast;
And under the wound, among the grass,
A little glow-worm—as if it were
Her soul dropt out among the flowers—
Her soul dropt out of the wound!
Frogs. Her soul dropt out of the wound!Quuck,
Kilutty kullutty quickutty quuck.
Melfort.The marsh flowers that spring about her
Are busy to hide her in their arms,
With open mouths kissing her delicate flesh!
Toads.Huncutty hincutty huncutty hic,
Killutty quickutty kill, quick.
EvaĂŻd.Ah me!
Melfort. EvaĂŻd.Ah me!She is alive, and lifts
Her loaded lids!
EvaĂŻd. Her loaded lids!Ah me, I die.
Melfort.A witch! a fairy thing!—See here
A chaplet of flowers upon her brow—
Of lilies and daisies on her brow!
EvaĂŻd.Ah me, alas!
Melfort. Evaïd.Ah me, alas!She looks at me—
And O the swooning light of her eyes!
If you will die thus beautifully,
Die thus for ever!
EvaĂŻd. Die thus for ever!O the pain!
Melfort.Am I a fool, a senseless stock,
To haver thus the while she dies!
Come, I will hide you in my coat,
Enwrap you here and hide you thus;
And press my kerchief to your wound.
(O beautiful breast; O bitter wound;
O cruel, carvèd, bitter wound.)
Come, courage, come. Come lay your head
Here. Do not moan, for I will go
And fetch you succour from the town.
(She is not cold, but burns like fire—
For all her ebbing blood doth flow
In guilty oozing from her breast.
What, wounded in water, yet so warm!)
EvaĂŻd.I am dying. Let me be.
Let me perish, let me be.
Melfort.No, no, you shall not perish, dear,
For I will bring you succour soon.
So courage, my child—I will return.
EvaĂŻd.Do not leave me, do not grieve me,
Do not leave me ere I die;
If you leave me I shall perish;
Linger by me while I die.
Melfort.I must go and bring some aid for you,
Or you will die here in the marsh.
(Heavens, how she clings upon my arm;
Heavens, how her fingers cling upon me;
And O the swooning light of her eyes!)
What, shall I take you in my arms, then,
And bear you to the town?
And bear you to the town?I dare not.
What, do you clasp your arms about me,
Who should be dead by now! (Alas!
The languid head, the dying eyes!—
Yet she is warm; not chill, not cold,
Not like a corpse!) Hold up your head.
Why do you cling upon me? (God,
The slender, beautiful, long arms!)
EvaĂŻd.If you leave me, I shall perish;
If you grieve me, I shall die.
O the trembling and the torment,
O the trembling and the cold!
O the paining, O the pining,
O the paining in my wound!
Melfort.Come then, I’ll bear you.
Melfort.Come then, I’ll bear you.No, I will not.
What is it I hear?—the accursed frogs
That cry!
That cry!I will not carry you—
Not take you in my arms. I see
Some magic here. Maids crown’d with flowers
But dying wounded are not found.
See now I stand away. For listen!
They cry, “kill, kill.” The squatting toads
And gulping frogs do croak it forth,
And the lip-licking efts of the pool,
And worms, come out of the earth to cry it—
“Kill, kill; kill, kill.”—Whom should I kill?
The misty glamours of the moon
Amaze me; and you die not yet,
Who with that wounding should be dead.
There is some dire enchantment on me.
Why do you die not, being wounded—
And in the heart? When you are dead
I’ll carry you. Till then, lie there.
EvaĂŻd.Will you leave the poor one dying,
Lying dying, lying dying,
Lying in the cold cold water,
Sighing, dying all alone?
Melfort.Nay, then, I’ll take you—though I die.
The moon is magical and the marsh
Peopled with voices. So—your head
Upon my shoulder: thus. So, so;
And put your arms about me—so.
You may have trust in me—I’m honest,
And have a sister lives with me,
And she shall tend you. All the land
Shall follow to-morrow your murderer . . .
So there . . . your weight is but a child’s . . .
But stay, I have forgot the dagger—
The dagger that gleams on the glistening grass.
EvaĂŻd.No, no, leave it there;
Leave the dagger where it fell;
Leave the dagger burning bright;
Leave the bitter biting steel.
Melfort.No . . . I’ll take it. Now come on.
*
(He lifts her.)
Chorus.Sumph, sumph, sumph, sumph;
Sumphity, sumphity, sumphity sumph.
Melfort.So, so, sure and slow;
Where’s the way, I do not know.
Chorus.Sumph, sumph, sumph, sumph;
Glumphutty, glumphutty, glumphutty glumph.
Melfort.So, so, slow and sure;
Set the teeth hard, dumb and dour.
Frogs.Click, cluck, clickutty cluck.
Melfort.Now I’m stumbling, now I’m stuck.
Toads.Glick, gluck, glickutty gluck.
Melfort.Glory to mud and glory to muck.
Chorus.Ho, ho, hinkutty hong.
Melfort.No, no, not for long;
I am steadfast, I am strong.
Chorus.Ho, ho, hinkutty hong.
Melfort.Nothing can let me—not for long.
Now I’m free—we’ll go along.
See the pollards growing there
Like a row of dancing dwarfs;
How they listen, how they peer,
Look and listen, laugh and leer,
Black against the shrunken moon,
That will now be sinking soon,
Sinking in the sucking mud,
Yellow as evil, yellow as sin,
Like a murderer drown’d in blood.
See, see, see, see,
See the water-weeds that are
Frosted all with phantom fire
Oozing from the bubbling mire;
And on every reed a star,
Blue, blue, blue, and blear
Like a devil seated there.
Chorus.Ho, ha, hinkutty hong,
Sinkutty sonkutty sinkutty song.
Melfort.Damnèd, damnèd, damnèd be
The fingers that hold me, foot and knee.
Chorus.Hing, ho, hinkutty hong,
Sing, song, sinkutty song.
Melfort.Damnèd, damnèd, damnèd be
The time of the rhyme of the frogs of the marsh;
Damnable diapason of frogs . . .
Tune of the croon of the frogs of the fen . . .
Drumming and droning of the fen . . .
Beating and booming in my blood . . .
EvaĂŻd.Hear me, hear me, hear me, hear;
Shall I whisper in your ear?
Hush, hush, hush, hush;
Do not listen, do not hear.
Chorus.Sumph, sumph, sumph, sumph;
Sumphity, sumphity, sumphity sumph.
EvaĂŻd.Hear me, hear me, hear me, hear;
Shall I say it in your ear?
If I tell you do not hear,
Do not listen, do not hear.
Sigh, sigh, sigh, sigh,
Weep for the poor one who will die.
Dew-drops glisten so and die . . .
Die, die, die, die . . .
Do not listen, don’t reply.
Little Frog.Hi, ho, hinkutty han,
Here’s a foolish floundering man.
Bull-Frog.Hing, hong, strike up a song,
Strike up a chorus, strike up a song.
Evaïd.If I tell you that I’m dying,
You will kiss me, softly sighing—
Kiss the poor one who is dying,
Dying, dying, dying, dying.
Shall I whisper, shall I tell you?
No, the sparkling stars will hear me—
Cold, keen, cruel stars—
They will hear me, hear me, hear me,
Hear me sighing, crying, dying.
O the paining, O the sorrow;
You’ll be sad for me to-morrow.
Melfort.Yes, tell me.
EvaĂŻd. Melfort.Yes, tell me.Tell me, tell me, tell me.
Melfort.Tell me, I say.
EvaĂŻd. Melfort.Tell me, I say.No, no;
You will die, O you will perish
If I tell you that I love you.
I’ll not tell you that I love you.
Me though chillèd none shall cherish,
None would save me though I perish.
O the paining, O the sorrow;
None shall weep for me to-morrow,
Morrow, morrow, morrow . . .
Melfort. Morrow, morrow, morrow . . .Speak not!—
Or speak more harshly—for my heart
Swoons at the sweetness of your tongue.
Chorus.Hinkutty, hunkutty, hinkutty hunkutty,
Hing, ho, hing, ho.
This is the rhyme that goes in time,
Sing, ho, sing, ho—
The bold uproarious gladdening glorious
Jinketting, junketting, maddening rhyme.
Melfort.Are you dying so, yet singing?
Dying, dead, yet sing of love?
See your tender fingers clinging,
See your long locks lying gleaming,
Over all your beauty streaming,
In the moonlight, faint and low,
Let me leave you, let me go;
For you have enchanted me
With a moonlight-mystery,
And a dew-fire’s on your head;
But your weight is weight of lead;
And I cannot see your eyes,
Cannot see your faery eyes . . .
Let me linger, let me ken,
Let me view thee, peerless one—
Queen of the Marsh, Queen of the Fen—
Gaze my fill by the mystic moon,
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful one.
EvaĂŻd.Lover, lover, lover dear,
Shall
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