Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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8 THE QUIVER (SCENES LEFT OUT BY SHAKESPEARE) Act II. Scene V. A Room in Macduff’s Castle. Evening. (Enter Lady Macduff. Sits.) Lady Mrcduff. Where is my husband? He hath said to me That he’d return ere set of sun this day. He planned to hasten home from Inverness As soon as—Hark! Why! Footsteps on the stairs! (Enter Macduff hastily, bursting in like ma 1.) Macduff. Most gracious wife, the royal Duncan’s murthered: Lady. What, our king is murthered in cold blood? Macduff. At Cawdor’s castle was he set upon. Two grooms, kept with him, were besmeared with blood, And question fastened on them of the deed. Macbeth, in rage, hath killed them in their beds As he went in to view the Gorgon sight. (Sits.) Lady. Have you no tidings of this grave affair Save what you have related now to me? Macduff. But little is the knowledge of the deed. None of us know the time, the place, the doer. The story, as I know it, is quite brief: King Duncan had made plans to honor Cawdor, By presents and his presence at his home. He thence arrived on Friday night the last: And after sup, to bed did go apace. ’Tis said Macbeth was up at midnight. Also That owls did shriek, and the poor whippoorwill Did weep the livelong night. So horrible Was the night that the day dare’d not come up Till long after its time accustomed, and The raven, bird of witchcraft, held his post O’er the castle like a harbinger so grim Of death to someone in the castle. Lord Angus did awake at early morn And then did hear a bell toll, once, twice, thrice; Then thought he heard a voice cry out i’the night. Soon after, Ross and I came to the place; The drunken porter slow did ope the door; Then soon did Macbeth come upon us. I wished to see the king on urgent matters,

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THE QUIVER 7 Hopping down from my perch, I walk through the dew-laden woods, eating red raspberries, wild strawberries, and thimbleberries until my lips are stained with their juice. In a pool among the rocks the tadpoles are playing, and frogs are floating lazily in the green slime on the top of the water, their green backs matching the color of the scum. And three short hours later, I am in school! Nature’s school seems good enough for me, but others don’t think so, so I must stay all day with those dull companions, Latin, French, and Geometry. It’s a cruel world—sometimes! HELEN L. CARD. ’21 POPPIES As the days of spring pass swiftly Into summer’s dusky haze, Come the lovely, silken poppies With their vari-colored rays. Every morn the garden patches, Gorgeous with their wealth of bloom. Give to us the wondrous message Of hope and cheer and not of gloom As we see the poppies waving, Pink and violet and white Our thoughts turn-to Flander’s poppies Making War s waste places bright. O! blood-red poppies, wafting courage Into many a lonely life. Give us strength to cheer and comfort, Keep us faithful in the strife. Cheering, loving, giving, serving, Happy, with a peaceful heart, Knowing God will keep us safely If we always do our part. HATTIE E. SPAULDING, 20.

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THE QUIVER I-ady. Macduff. Lady. Macduff. I-ady. Macduff. So entered in his room straightway, and Lord! 1 saw the king lie dead upon his couch, His chamberlains with diggers in their hands, Besmeared with blood, and drunk as drunk could be But Sinel's son did enter after me; Seeing the king, did kill the grooms straightway, Protesting that his rage it was so great He could not 'strain his hand from killing them. A fouler murder never saw the light: A wise and just man was our good King Duncan, His virtues great, his bad traits few, so few He seemed too good for this poor earth of ours. Know you not who was author of the deed? ’Twixt you and me, I think the grooms, though low, Are innocent of any wrong or death: They were so drunk they knew nothing at all. Macbeth, you know, has hoped to be the king, And ambition overthrows all good in one. The murder of the chamberlains, coming then. So soon after the murder of the king, Must lay suspicion heavy on Macbeth. Think you Macbeth would be so base, so shorn Of all thought of his fellowmen, to kill His king, his kinsman, and his guest ? I think his not so good a nature That ’twould not stoop, to kill his kith and kin, Though laws of hospitality forbid, Though whom he kills, the sovereign, his most graci ous king, Whose virtues shine like stars up in the sky, Whose kindliness and meekness are well known, Who’s trusting even to a very fault. What other reasons have you to suspect him? Also, his trying to accuse the grooms, When his word is worth ten of theirs ’fore judge, Savors too much of trying to subvert The guilt from him entirely to the others. Then, too, his going so soon to Scone, As if he wished the crown upon his head Where none could take it from him. (I tell you, I will not go to see him crowned at Scone, Who I believe has murdered our kind Duncan.)