Social media workshop suggested that one should only occasionally subliminally drop in church service times into more interesting posts. So here is Hamlets soliloquy for this Sunday: To be, or not to be--that is the question: Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a Parish Eucharist at Welwyn 9.30am And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep-- No more--and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, Family Service at Datchworth 11.15, That flesh is heir to. Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-- 8am at Welwyn, said eucharist, To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, theres the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. Theres the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of Tewin at 9.30 Parish Eucharist, Th oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely The pangs of despised love, the laws delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th BCP Communion at Ayot St Peter at 11.15, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to the Family Communion service at Woolmer Green at 11.15, we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied oer with the pale cast of Evensong at Welwyn 6.30 (and oh goodness me, Im leading it), And enterprise of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now, The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered.
Posted on: Sat, 25 Oct 2014 09:33:13 +0000
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