Goethe

 

 

Soliloquy

By: Maurie C. Bryan

Source: The Bridge Player's Bedside Companion

 

The Bridge Player's Bedside Companion

 

 

To bid or not to bid: that is the question!
Whether 'tis better in the end to suffer
The sets and bottoms of outrageous distribution,
Or to pass against a mess of doubles,
And by passing end them. To win; to place;
No more; and by a pass to end
Redoubles and the thousand natural shocks
A player is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To place, to win;
To win; perchance I dream: aye, there's the rub;


For in that dream what tops may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the bid
That makes calamity of one night's play.
For who could bear the halfs and zeros, at times
The opponent's scorn, our partner's contumely,
The pangs of sacrifices gone wrong, the kibitzer's pity,


The point count, honor trick,
The chill of bottoms the unworthy takes,
When he himself might quiet us make
With a mere pass? Who would conventions use
To squirm and sweat a dazed life,
But that dread of being east-west
That humble seeding from whose bourn
No reputation returns, puzzles the mind
And makes us rather hide the cards we have
Than make bids our partner knows not of?


Our systems do make fools of us all,
And thus the simple pass of irresolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of doubt.


All enterprise of cue bids, take-outs
We now regard as breathless strategy
And skip the chance for action. Soft you now!
Fair partner! Simply, in thy prayers
Be all my bridge sins remember'd

 


The obvious relationship with the work of Mr. William Shakespeare is self-evident. A comparison with the Soliloquy of Hamlet can be made by reading the original work reproduced below. A soliloquy, although the definition is yet debated, is generally defined as a dramatic speech uttered by one character speaking aloud while alone on the stage (or while under the impression of being alone). The soliloquist thus reveals his or her inner thoughts and feelings to the audience, either in supposed self‐communion or in a consciously direct address.

 

William Shakespeare

 

William Shakespeare's Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Act III, scene I,

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 sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
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 others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.