马修

马修 How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on ’t, ah fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed. Things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this. But two months dead—nay, not so much, not two. So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr. So loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.—Heaven and earth, Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown For me, how tired, meaningless My existence is to me, to all the interests of the life, just like a decoy, Just like a garden filled with weeds lonely running in its own way. With time going by, the weeds grows crazy and wildly, Absolutely, it is a fact that I cannot inform of anyone that it should come to this. My father has passed away for two months, oh, not until two months yet, How excellent my father is as a King, who is superior to my uncle as Hyperion to a lecher. He also loves my mother so much that se cannot grant the piercingly cold wind Blowing on her face. Oh, dear God, Is it necessary for me to remember this? She would remain faithful to my father As time goes by, she is more willing to be loyal and more willing to love him Forever.