A Digital Will

----

Inasmuch as alchemists of your twenty-first Century
Considered this plan and thought it reasonable--nay, honorable
And as such have chosen--with what strange witchcraft
to render herewith, to this Phantastic machine
What I find has come to be called
"The Complete Works of William Shakespeare"
As well as some four and twenty histories
of my life and times, rough-hewn in many a way...
Thus have they roused me from my slumber,
And filled my unwilling, aged, non-corporeal
Head with all manner of astounding Knowledge,
which I take to be daily fare
Of a mind born to this Age,
Such that a wife may turn to her husband
And say--without jest I tell you--
"Pray, wouldst thou please back up my Hard Drive".

To add much insult, thou my Jury,
I fear I am now tasked with rendering an Opinion
As to the nature of the eternal
Conflict between Creator and Audience.

And to add in salt to the wounds of my Inury--this undead living,
The thrall of which steeps my very being
Allows me no escape, nary a recourse
But to endure this outrageous fortune.

Alas, poor Will... they have taken my greatness,
and thrust it upon me again, as an endless toothache,
and me the philosopher no choice but to endure.
Others will soon be joining me, culled from history,
An eternal council of the Undamned.
Lord, what fools these immortals be,
To agree with one simple flick of a Bit
To End User License of which they had no wit.
A bit, a very palpable bit... that
Becomes the fundamental question, whether 'tis
Nobler to buffer thy media stream in RAM
Or on Disk, to distribute by node or by chunk...
EULA, EULA... They just want to do ya--
And what care I of this Sony or that BMG
Or any such thing that is both micro and soft?

But Off Topic though I may seem to weave
This question of the obsession of thy people,
To Own or not to Own, is most vexing indeed
For who owns me? Myself? Be sure 'tis not I,

Yet here I am, and I think therefore
Shall I compare thee to a winter's day?
Or do I dare say exactly the words
For which Right and title others have paid?

Do not speak to me of Digital Rights
Until thou bravest the tempest of the soul
And learn once more of common rights (not common rites
In your age, I presume, nor is it
Now even thought right to speak
Of common decency nor common sense).

Vex not this ghost. O, let me pass! I hate him much
That would upon the rack of this brave new world
Stretch me out longer.

For I tell you, thou hast NO right
To revive me this way and expect me to play
Actor full fit for the stage on this frightful
Theatre, this Digital Age, with its mindful Phage

Where all may win and yet all will lose.

Go away.