Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,

Sir Richard Kelly, Davy Gam, esquire;

None else of name, and of all other men

But five and twenty.

 

Henry

King Henry the Fifth                    Act IV, Scene viii,  Line 104

 

The battle having been fought and won, Henry is here listing the English killed. Wikipedia tells me that the English dead were around six hundred, not just five and twenty. And whilst that’s a far cry from France’s six thousand, and still a great victory, it shows that Will liked to exercise his dramatic license in the retelling of the Battle of Agincourt. And why not; like they say, history is written by the victors. Actually, that was a Brit too: Winston Churchill (according to Google).  

Wait, Winston who?

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

 

Hamlet

Hamlet                   Act II, Scene ii,  Line 381

 

Why are they deceived? Because, says Hamlet, I am but mad north northwest: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

He’s speaking in riddles more or less. Hamlet knows that the king has sent Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to find out what’s going on with him, and why he’s been acting so strange, so he’s just toying with the pair.

A hawk from a handsaw. I wonder why Will picked that pair of items.  Random? Oh, I doubt it. See, here’s another discussion opportunity. Why a hawk and a handsaw. Why not a rake from a rocking chair?

Well?

Or how about a chihuahua and a jigsaw puzzle, eh? 

What, you think a chihuahua can't do a jigsaw puzzle? 

Now you're just being chihuahuaist.

 Today’s Totally Random Line 

 

First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me

From giving reins and spur to my free speech;

Which else would post until it had return’d

These terms of treason doubled down his throat.

 

Thomas Mowbray

King Richard the Second        Act I, Scene i,  Line 54

 

This is a pretty familiar scene to me. Surprised? Anyway, it’s the first scene of King Richard the Second, the one where Bolingbroke and Mowbray are brought before the king to settle their dispute with each other.  Richard asks them to state their cases, Bolingbroke calls Mowbray a traitor and miscreant, and Mowbray starts his long winded response. Apparently this response is going to be a bit diluted because Mowbray is afraid to speak frankly in the king’s presence. Though, to be fair, talking about shoving the words back down Bolingbroke’s throat is not in the most polite terms possible.

One thing I find a little odd about this scene is the fact that Bolingbroke calls Mowbray a traitor, and yet it is Bolingbroke who’s going to come back and overthrow King Richard.
So…. Who’s the traitor?

And now for something completely different.

In the most stupendous scenes you will see delicate and fragile features, as slight wreathes of vapor, dew-lines, feathery sprays, which suggest a high refinement, a noble blood and breeding, as it were. It is not hard to account for elves and fairies; they represent this light grace, this ethereal gentility. Bring a spray from the wood, or a crystal from the brook, and place it on your mantel, and your household ornaments will seem plebeian beside its nobler fashion and bearing. It will wave superior there, as if used to a more refined and polished circle. It has a salute and a response to all your enthusiasm and heroism.

There you go. I’ve tossed a little Thoreau at you this morning. Why? It’s because I was reading a bit of him just now, and I ran into the passage assigning royal status to wreaths of vapor, dew-lines, and feathery sprays. I couldn’t help but think of Mowbray’s comments about curbing his speech because of the fair reverence of your highness.
What terribly different examples of how to look at, or treat, the symbols of royalty.

That aside, I thought Thoreau’s passage was really quite nice, and I wanted to share it with you. I just started reading him recently, having never spent any time with him before. I find his writing (at least so far) very soothing. So far it’s all about nature, pretty much appreciating nature above all else.
Seems like a pretty good attitude. 

Sometimes the little guy actually does listen to me. When I finished reading the Thoreau passage about nature, he decided he needed to look outside to check out nature for himself. 

What did he see? Well, you'll have to ask him yourself. He didn't tell me. 

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Property was thus appalled,

That the self was not the same;

Single natures double name,

Neither two nor one was called.

 

Narrator

The Phoenix and the Turtle   Lines 37 - 40

 

Well, let’s see. I believe this is the last time we’re going to visit this poem. It’s my fourth visit, and the poem is only sixty-seven lines long, and it’s not just that. This poem is confusing and convoluted, and nobody knows what Will's talking about. Even G.B. Harrison thinks so. In reference to this poem he says it is difficult and enigmatical, and no one has yet offered any satisfactory interpretation of its inner meaning.

So there!

Why are we messing with it? Not sure, but we won’t be in the future.

 Finito.

You heard him: Finito!

 

 Today’s Totally Random Lines

                                            I am much sorry , sir,

You put me to forget a lady’s manners,

By being so verbal: and learn now, for all,

That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,

By the very truth of it, I care not for you.

 

Imogen

Cymbeline              Act II, Scene iii, Line 108

 

This started out by Imogen answering Cloten’s question of whether she had called him a fool. She answers yes, and then begins apologizing for it, then lets him know what she really thinks of him, finally taking it further, saying,

And I am so near the lack of charity,-
To accuse myself,- I hate you; which I had rather
You felt than make’t my boast.

So she’s trying to qualify it the whole way, rather than just say it outright, but all she really wants to say is that she thinks he’s a fool and she hates him. No unnecessary words! Of course, that’s Strunk and White’s advice and this is Shakespeare. And never the twain shall meet. Really though, I think she could have been a little more straight forward. And Colten really is a creep, so he deserves it.
Oh well.

Funny, isn’t it, how sometimes we try so hard to hedge what we’re really feeling. And yet there are some people who don’t do that. Some people who have no filter. And that’s really not so good either.

I’m telling you, so many of these random lines can take you down nearly endless, and usually interesting, discussion paths.
Again, oh well.

Day four of retirement. Today actually is Saturday. No, really, it’s Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday. Which brings up the question: if every day of retirement is Saturday, then there’s no Sunday? I’ll ask Buck.

Either way, I think I can get used to this.

This mornings writing spot and view.

Yes, I can get used to this.

 Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Nay; good my fellows, do not please sharp fate

To grace it with your sorrows.

 

Antony

Antony and Cleopatra    Act IV, Scene xiv,  Line 135

Well, day three of retirement. Another day, and another line in a long list of Shakesperar’s characters’ last words. Perhaps we should look at the whole passage since it’s Antony’s last. And let’s face it, we have time now. Don’t worry, it’s only six lines.

Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
I have led you oft: carry me now good friends,
And have my thanks for all.

I think it’s a pretty easy passage. At first I got lost on the first line because somehow I missed the fact that ‘please’ is the verb there. Don’t make fate happy with your sorrow: Welcome cruel fate, and you will punish fate by taking its punishments lightly. Or something like that. 

Now the more I look at it, the more I like that first line.

Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate

To grace it with your sorrows.

Wow, that is classic. The whole thing. This is exactly why they refer to Will as the Poet Playwright. Those two lines are poetry. Nay, good my fellows. I love that – good my fellows.

And do not please sharp fate. Isn’t that about the best one word description of fate – sharp! The twists and turns of fate can be as sharp as anything there is.

What a great line. I think I found the opening line of my own elegy. I love it.

Okay, but just a sec. I made a mistake. Antony doesn’t die here; it just sounds like he does. He fell on his sword several lines back, but apparently he temporarily survives his suicide attempt. They carry him, dying, to Cleopatra and he dies in the next scene. For the record, his last word, in the next scene, are, 

Now my spirit is going; I can no more.

I felt I had to give you that since I opened telling you that we had Antony’s last lines. And now we did.

But one more time..

Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate

To grace it with your sorrows.

Fabulous!

"Mojo! Sleepyhead! Wake up! You're gonna miss a really good line."

"What?"

 Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

 Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.

 Prince of Morocco

The Merchant of Venice        Act II, Scene vi,  Line 7

 

This is the inscription on the second box, the silver one, and the Prince is reading it. He reads the inscriptions on all the boxes and, of course, chooses the wrong one. Portia’s picture is in the lead box which has the inscription ‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’ The gold box, the one the prince chooseth says ‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.’

These inscriptions are supposed to test a man’s logic and, more importantly betray his true character. At least that’s the theory.
The three inscriptions can be pretty thought provoking, if you’re so inclined. Of course, I can at times be so inclined; probably more so today than ever.

Why so today, you ask? Today is the first day of my retirement. The proverbial first day of the rest of my life. It’s got me being very philosophical. And as you know, I am a philosopher.

But getting back to the inscriptions, supposedly dear old dad set them up so that the person who chose the lead box would be deserving of his daughter, and the estate that went with her. Certainly, of the three, the lead box, and its inscription make it the hardest, or at least, most unlikely choice of most men. But there’s got to be more to dad’s theory than just that.

Well, this is something that you can think on; or even better, find someone to discuss it with. What, you’re thinking that I should discuss it with Mojo? I’m up early this morning (first day of retirement; remember?) and that little guy is still in bed. Perchance I’ll bring up the subject of Portia’s boxes with him later on.

The little guy is under there somewhere. It's not his first day of retirement, so he feels no need to get up early.