The Winter of our Discontent

"Now, will the winter of our discontent
Be made glorious summer by this sun of New York?
And will the clouds that lour'd upon our house
Be in the deep bosom of the ocean buried?
Now will our bodies be bound with military garments?
Our rusted arms made ready for aiming?
Our stable negotiations changed to feaful warnings?
Our peaceful dances to dreadful measures?"

("Donald the Trump" Act 1 Scene 1)



(Original)
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

("Richard III" Act 1 Scene 1  by William Shakespeare)