Like Cutler's Poetry Upon a Knife

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA

PORTIA
That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

NERISSA
When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

PORTIA
So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Unto the king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

NERISSA
It is your music, madam, of the house.

PORTIA
Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

NERISSA
Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

PORTIA
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended, and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion
And would not be awaked.

364 days since the call to the Bar - tomorrow shall mark one year. How the time has flown on since the British Open 2004 and the last meal in Glasgow etcetera. Rushing off anon this noon to be measured by the tailor for Phoenix. Thus we strike another Friday from the present calendar and send it remorselessly into the past, anxious always for the future - the matches and encounters and events yet to come. The plans reformulated. The sails unfurled.

It should be a momentous fall, that favorite of seasons for its beautiful melancholy and melancholic beauty. Where the nights get shorter, the colours mightier, the fog thicker, the music and chatter louder. The student new year ringing in a new randomness of character and situation. You are welcome to Elsinore.

Today is the 7th annual 1st Friday afternoon Happy Hour Extravaganza Really Big Draw. With free multi-purpose drinks inhouse, we'll see if we end up there or no. And whether the night to come is a dark one. We always do see, in the end.