Sherlock, Prince of 221B Denmark
To see, or not to see, that is the question:
Whether tis nobler of the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of blatant ignorance
or to take arms against a sea of idiots
and by deducing know them: to see, to think
so clear; and by logic, to put an end
to heart-ache, and the weary unnatural shocks
that minds are heir to. Tis an intelligence
needing cultivation. To see, to think,
to think, and thus observe. Ay, that’s the key,
for in observing them, what lies you’ll see,
when you shuffle off their pitiful foils,
and lay them bare. That’s the trick that
makes calamity of such a gift.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of truth,
the daily dullness, the proud man’s deception,
the corrected grammar, the foolish ruse,
their utter transparency, the spurns my
superiority gives the unworthy,
when they themselves can not analyze their own lives
with such precision? Who would boredom bear,
the tedious simplicity of life,
without the drive of games and puzzles,
the mastermind and villain, from whose grasp
only the clever return, trying the will,
and makes the examined life worth living,
where those with wit and drive come out on top?
Thus concluding makes bastards of us all,
for those of us who think our way through life
can think our way out of humanity,
alienating those with lower IQ’s,
losing regard, accused of heartlessness,
emotionless, hard to love. I’m alone,
for alone I live. In death I make a life,
and do not remember sins.
-Decided this would be a wonderful crossover. Someday I hope to finish the whole play. But for now, here is the soliloquy.
