Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the greater that I am subdued.

 

-Don John

Much Ado About Nothing          Act I Scene iii, Line 69

A thought occurred to me reading this: Don John seems to have been taking delight in the planning of misfortune for someone. We’ve seen this in many places with Will: Iago, Edmund, the list goes on. But I must say, this is a notion quite foreign to myself. I guess there are people that are very annoying to me (a certain neighbor comes to mind), and I may have wishes that they’d just go away and get out of my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever taken joy in planning ill fortune for them. And yet, I can think of other people in my life who may do just this.

Hmm, interesting.

 

Do you see these three arborvitae trees? We recently had them planted to increase the buffer between us and the guy on the other side of that white fence. Yes, he's annoying, but I don't sit around plotting his demise. I'd just prefer that he moved away. In the meantime - trees.  

 

You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!

 -Lear

King Lear                       Act II Scene iV, Line 272

It seems to me that we’ve all used this line, or a version of it, at some time or another. I certainly know that I have. It also seems to me, now that I think of it, that much of the time this line is used it is in reference to the patience needed with other people, not with things. Or perhaps I’m not correct about that. In any event, with these lines Lear is looking for the patience he needs for dealing with people: specifically his two daughters.

I can’t possibly imagine having my own kids turn against me. I can remember, let alone imagine, needing patience to deal with them, but not because they were turning against me. I would certainly be looking, as Lear is, to the heavens for help if that happened.

Anyway, I still find myself looking for patience a lot, and a lot of the time it’s patience needed dealing with people. People can be tough to deal with, can't they?

Here is someone I hardly, if ever, needed patience with. Of course, she was not a people.

 

She embraces him.

 

-Polixenes

The Winter’s Tale                  Act V Scene iii, Line 111

Today’s line sounds more like a stage direction than a line. Nonetheless, it is today’s Totally Random line. And a nice short one it is. She embraces him: subject, verb, and object. It doesn’t get all that much simpler than that. In fact, a bit unshakespearean if you don’t mind my saying. She embraces him. I’m not even sure why we have this line. Certainly, the audience can see that she is embracing him. Soooooo, what’s with this line?

Anyone? See, this is the part where I really wish I had some people reading this blog who might give some thoughts on this. Oh well. Nobody reads it: subject, verb, and object.

Here we have a picture of today's blogpost readers; who, coincidentally, is also today's blogpost writer.

And since this business so fair is done,

Let us not leave till all our own be won.

 

-King Henry

King Henry the Fourth Part I         Act V Scene v, Line 44

 

Yesterday we were at the beginning of Richard II, and today we are at the end of the subsequent play, King Henry the Fourth Part I. I say subsequent because this is the historical chronology of events, but not necessarily the order in which Will wrote the plays. Though actually, I think these two might have been written in this order. No matter.

So, we have a rhyming couplet for today’s Totally Random lines (two lines that rhyme) which is very typical of how Will ends scenes and whole plays. He loved his rhyming couplets. I doubt that he invented the usage of them, but I don’t actually know. We’d have to ask Stephen or Marjorie or one of those folks, but they’re not readers of this blog, so never mind.

Now, since we don’t have a bunch of our own to be won, what say we consider our business so fair done, and leave. 

Good-bye.

 

As near as I could sift him on the argument,-

On some apparent danger seen in him

Aim’d at your highness,- no inveterate malice.

 

-John of Gaunt

King Richard the Second                Act I Scene i, Line 12

 

Here we are at the beginning of Richard II, and the also the beginning of the series of Will’s plays that covers the Wars of the Roses; starting with Richard II, continuing with the Henrys IV, V, and VI, and ending with Richard III. And Will wastes no time getting into it.

John of Gaunt’s son, Henry Hereford (also referred to as Bolingbroke and later to become Henry IV) has challenged the Duke of Norfolk (also referred to as Thomas Mowbray – seems like everybody’s got at least two names) to mortal combat. King Richard wants to know if John of Gaunt has found out if Henry just hates Norfolk or if the latter is up to some treachery.  Today’s Totally Random lines are John’s response to that: Henry has no inveterate malice for the Duke (he’s not doing it out of hatred), Henry sees that the Duke is plotting against the throne.

So here’s the funny thing: Henry has challenged The Duke of Norfolk to mortal combat because he believes the Duke is plotting against the king. Yet, it is Henry who will overthrow the king by the end of the play.

Anyway, I’d like to point out the word that jumped out at me this morning. It’s sift. As near as I could sift him. Even though you’ve probably never seen this word used that way before (or maybe you have?), it’s easy to figure out its meaning. He’s sifting him. It makes me envision a flour sifter. In the same way that you pass flour through the sifter, John has gone through Henry’s words to come up with what he believes is the pure truth of the matter. He’s sifted him. What a great use of the word. This could be particularly useful when talking about people who you might have a hard time getting a straight answer out of. 

“Is Evan going to be here this weekend?”

“As near as I could sift him, I believe the answer is yes.”

Evan’s a great guy, but he can be hard to sift sometimes.

And here is the great un-siftable One. It occurs to me that those two little guys, his nephews, are busy right here sifting Uncle Evan, trying to figure out what this guy is all about. Good luck guys.

 

Your steward puts me off, my lord; and I am sent expressly to your lordship.

 

-Isidore’s Servant

Timon of Athens              Act II Scene ii, Line 35

 

And so it begins. Timon owes money to Isidore and he, Timon, is about to find out that he does not have the means to repay it. It goes downhill for Timon from here.

When Flavius, Timon’s head of household, starts explaining to Timon how broke he, Timon, actually is, Timon wonders idly whether or not Flavius is responsible. Flavius replies,

         If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood,

        Call me before the exactest auditors,

        And set me on proof.

Ahh, he’s threatening to call in the auditors! CohnReznick? Deloitte and Touche? Or how about Haskins and Sells!

Hey, I was just excited to find a reference in Will's works to auditors. 

 

O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

-Page

Romeo and Juliet            Act V Scene iii, Line 71

Well, this is a pretty mundane line. Put there, I suppose, just to let the audience know that someone’s going to tell the others what’s going on, so as to explain how/why they all end up showing up at the mausoleum; because pretty much everyone shows up by the end of this scene, to end the play.

Pretty much everyone showed up for the 100 year anniversary of the Blagys household too. But I don't think that was the Page's doing. I think it was because Phil sent out invitations.

 

But her eyes,--

How could he see to do them? Having made one,

Methinks it should have power to steal both his,

And leave itself unfurnisht.

 

-Bassanio

The Merchant of Venice         Act III Scene ii, Line 125

 

Here we have Bassanio talking about a painting of Portia. The he and his being referred to is the artist who painted the picture. Once he had painted one of Portia’s eyes how is it possible that the beauty of it did not distract the artist so much that he would not have been able to finish the painting.

Bassanio also talks about Portia’s lips and her sweet breath (that’s how good the artist was: he was able to paint her breath) as well as her hair, where

The painter plays the spider; and hath woven

A golden mesh t’entrap the hearts of men,

Faster than gnats in cobwebs: 

Apparently Bassanio is fairly enraptured with the appearance of Portia, and the job that the artist did on her portrait. I suppose that’s good since he just won her. Yeah, let's not get into that part of it.

I think I might have used this pic before, but it seemed pretty appropriate for today's line. This is the crowd at the Louvre (that's Jess front and center in the pic) staring at the Mona Lisa. Mona is off to the left, behind that curved wooden railing (every time I look at this pic I am amazed by all of the other paintings in this room being ignored). So it begs the question: did Leonardo DaVinci do as good a job as the painter of Portia? Or are all of these people staring at the picture because it's famous? Being the cynic that I am, I have to go with the latter. How about you? 

 

Now, good Sir John, how do you like Windsor wives?—

-Mistress Page

The Merry Wives of Windsor         Act V Scene v, Line 109

 

And there you have it. Falstaff has spent a good portion of this play working on having his way with the wives, and in this final scene the wives, their husbands, and just about everyone else in the play turn the tables on him and make an ass of Falstaff. In fact, Sir John's reply to Mistress Page is I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.

N’uff said about that. I suppose we could go on and talk about the character of Falstaff, but rather then go into a bunch of analysis I’ll simply leave you with a little fun fact. Falstaff has more lines than any other of Shakespeare’s characters. How is that possible, you ask. It’s possible because Falstaff is in three different plays; Henry IV Parts I and II, and The Merry Wives of Windsor. Hamlet has more lines in one play than any other character in one play. But overall, Falstaff has more. There you go, that’s your Shakespeare trivia for the day. As usual, no need to thank me.

This character reminds me a little of Sir John Falstaff. They both have a lot to say, and they both do their best to get others to do all the work. In this picture our modern day Falstaff is sitting in a chair with  his daughter on his lap and he's got his wife holding the bottle. 

Yup, very Falstaffian.

 

His noble cousin is right welcome hither;

And all the number of his fair demands

Shall be accomplisht without contradiction:

 

-Richard

King Richard the Second        Act III Scene iii, Line 122

 

This is Richard’s answer to Bolingbroke’s demand that all his rights and properties be restored. Bolingbroke has said that this is all he wants, and that he has no designs on Richard’s crown. But everyone, including Richard, knows that is not true and that by giving in to Bolingbroke’s demands it will be the beginning of the end of Richard’s reign.

When Richard says His noble cousin, he’s using the royal third person. What he means is My noble cousin. Remember, Bolingbroke and Richard are first cousins, their fathers were brothers. But both the fathers, Bolingbroke’s dad, John of Gaunt, and Richard’s dad, the Black Prince, are long gone, leaving this next generation of cousins to sort it out.

Spoiler alert: they’re not going to do a very good job of sorting it out.

 

He supt at my house; but I therefore shake not.

-Bianca

Othello                   Act V Scene i, Line 118

 

Bianca is the mistress to Cassio, and Cassio is the fellow that Iago is using to fuel Othello’s jealousy. However, I’m not sure exactly what Iago is trying to do here, other than to know that it’s all part of the game he is playing. Literally no one in this play except Iago is doing anything improper, but Iago is managing to make trouble for just about everyone.

Good ‘ol Iago.

I supped at my house tonight too: leftover cheese and crackers and kielbasa from Easter.

And look - no shaking either. It's the hand of a surgeon. Well, not exactly.

 

Nay, this way, man: see where the huntsmen stand.

-King Edward

King Henry the Sixth Part III                 Act IV Scene v, Line 15

 

This is the part of English history (and this play) where the crown is bouncing from one head to the other, and even though we are referring to him here as King Edward, it's Henry the Sixth’s forces who have currently regained control of the kingdom. In this scene Edward is escaping from captivity. Apparently even in captivity he’s allowed to go out hunting (sort of like the prison for white collar prisoners today), and the huntsmen Edward’s pointing to are his brother and some others who have come to aid in his escape. They will be successful and the fellow who is guarding Edward goes along with them. Better do so than tarry and be hang’d, he says. That seems to be a pretty sensible attitude. 

Here are some Easter Peeps. Nothing to do with today's line; everything to do with the time of year. You'll notice that the two blue peeps on the left are vision impaired. We had another box of pink peeps that had no eyes at all. Where's the quality control, folks? Norm Stivers would never have let this workmanship (or lack thereof) get through.

 

Decius Brutus loves thee not:

 

-Artemidorus

Julius Caesar                          Act II Scene iii, Line 4

 

A sophist of Cnidos. That’s how Artemidorus is listed in the Dramatis Personae, the list of characters at the beginning of the play. What we’re doing with a teacher from ancient Greece in Caesar’s Rome is beyond me. Maybe he’s the guy who’s there to fix the clock.

Anyway, Artemidourus is the only person in this short scene. He is standing alone and reading aloud a note that he has penned to Julius Caesar warning him that he is in danger of being assassinated. He lists Brutus and all the fellows of the conspiracy. ‘Beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; come not near Casca, etc, etc.’ (I added the etc’s). I don’t know that Artemidorus is mentioned previously in the play, and I’m not sure how/why he knows about the conspiracy. He will show up one more time in the stabbing scene trying, and failing, to warn Caesar. The latter is too busy to listen to him.

And therein lies the lesson: Forget about the ides of March nonsense (although I guess he should have listened to that guy too), the lesson here is ignore others at your own peril.

Today's screen saver. Pretty cool shot, eh?

Relevance? None.

 

What wills Lord Talbot pleases Burgundy.

 

-Duke of Burgundy

King Henry the Sixth Part I       Act III Scene ii, Line 130

 

The line might seem a little hard to understand at first glance, but it’s really not. Whatever is the will of Lord Talbot will please Burgundy. The Duke of Burgundy is speaking to Talbot and referring to both Talbot and himself in the third person. Talbot has just told Burgundy that they’re going to take control of the town they are in, and once they’re done with that they will head to Paris because that’s where King Henry is. And Burgundy says, Okie dokie, what ever you say, Boss.

Got it?

This is our side yard. Yesterday I got home in a timely fashion so that I could help with some yardwork. But after about an hour of the boss riding around on the tractor pointing out to me every stick that needed to be picked up and every spot that needed to be raked, the Okie dokie, whatever you say, Boss turned into Rake the f@!&**! yard yourself, boss.

 

No more shall trenching war channel her fields,

Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoof

Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,

Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,

All of one nature, of one substance bred,

Did lately meet in the intestine shock

And furious close of civil butchery,

Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,

March all one way, and be no more opposed

Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:

 

-King Henry

King Henry the Fourth Part I    Act I Scene i, Line 12

Wrong.

Henry here, is talking about the fact that there’s going to be no more civil war. The ‘her’ he is referring to is, of course, England: no more Englishman fighting against Englishman. Henry will go on to talk about heading off to fight in the crusades in the Holy Land.

Again, wrong.

Basically, Henry is the one who started the Wars of the Roses, the civil butchery, by overthrowing his cousin Richard II, so I don’t know why he’s so simplistic to think that this internal strife will just end. These wars will continue for a few generations until Henry VII ends them by defeating Richard III (by the way, not the son of Richard II).

So this is how we start the play off.

Some fantastic wording here. Really, pretty much every line has something in it to enjoy. Trenching war channeling her fields, bruising her flowerets; meeting in the intestine shock. And now they’re going to march all one way in mutual, well-beseeming ranks.

You really need to find a way to spend a few minutes to enjoy this use of the English language. If you take just a little time to read these lines over slowly, and ponder the words and the imagery, you might, just might, start to get a little bit of an understanding of why Will is considered the best there ever was.

No pic today, just great words.

 

Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far

From thy report as thou from honour; and

Solicit’st here a lady that disdains

Thee and the devil alike.

 

-Imogen

Cymbeline                  Act I Scene vi, Line 145

Imogen is talking about her husband to Iachimo here, who I believe is a bit of a weasel. Iachimo is a weasel, not her husband.

Will’s works are just full of weasels, aren’t they? Just like the real world is full of them.

Well that's an awfully cute weasel on the right there, isn't it. Wait a tic, that's not a weasel at all; that's Patrice, and she's pretending to be an otter, not a weasel. Cutest looking otter I've ever seen.

 

An old hare hoar,

And an old hare hoar,

Is very good meat in Lent:

But a hare that is hoar

Is too much for a score,

When it hoars ere it be spent.—

 

-Mercutio

Romeo and Juliet               Act II Scene iii, Line 106

Holy Moly, what’s that all mean? Supposedly it’s a little ditty that Mercutio is singing. I’ll have to do a little digging on this one. Perhaps I’ll use the Google.

Okay, I checked with Asimov, Rowse, Garber, Bloom, Goddard, Harrison, and yes, the Google. None of them have anything to say about these six lines. What the heck do you think of that?

Nothin'. Not a darn thing.

 

 

‘Tis certain there’s not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha’ done this slaughter:

 

-Gower

King Henry the Fifth                 Act IV Scene vii, Line 5

Gower and his buddy Fluellen are talking about the fact that the French attacked an unprotected luggage caravan behind the British lines and killed a bunch of unarmed servants. On the flip side, King Henry has now ordered that all the French prisoners be executed.

Last night I watched the movie Dunkirk, and this morning, driving to work, I was thinking about the Ukraine situation. Regarding the latter, it occurs to me that similarities between what, and ostensibly why, Putin is doing and what Hitler did are clear as day. And I can’t help but ask myself why every single person in the whole world doesn’t see this. And then I realize that Agincourt took place in 1415, with eons of countless battles and wars before and centuries of battles and war since. And no one has ever learned a damn thing from all of it. Sometimes that surprises me, and sometimes it pisses me off. Usually in the end, though, I simply close my eyes and slowly, unconsciously fill my lungs up just as much as I can, and then let it out in a loonnngggg sigh. A fathoms deep sigh.

 

No pic today, just a poem. It’s from World War I. You know, the war to end all wars.

        Dulce et Decorum Est

    By Wilfred Owen

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through the sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets on just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

 

The latin phrase that ends the poem translates to It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.

 

What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?

 -Beatrice

Much Ado About Nothing                  Act III Scene iv, Line 86

 

This line is preceded by fourteen lines of Margaret (one of the serving women) going on and on about pretty much nothing. I read the whole scene earlier this morning and there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of anything in it. So, much ado about nothing, right?

I’m not sure why this is just now occurring to me, but this is a highly usable line. At least for me it is. Haven’t you ever been listening to someone talking to you that you couldn’t understand because they were talking too fast? This would be the perfect line. I think I’d be hard put to remember the line, but if I could, I would definitely use it. Wouldn’t you?

Instead of slow down; I can’t understand you it would sound so much better to say What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? It’s a fabulous line!

 

                        You fools! I and my fellows

Are ministers of fate: the elements,

Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as well

Wound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabs

Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish

One dowle that’s in my plume.

 

-Ariel

The Tempest               Act III Scene iii, Line 61

 

This is Ariel, pretending to be a Harpy, threatening the King and his men. A dowle in his plume is a feather in his wing. Remember, Harpies have wings.

So this is a little long, but pretty easy to understand. At least, I think it is. And very shortly after this the king and the two brothers are driven mad with fear and go running off.

And there you have it.

Self Explanatory

 

Who wouldst thou strike?

 -Proteus

The Two Gentlemen of Verona   Act II Scene i, Line 200

 

Interesting succession of lines, eh? Yesterday it was What should this be, and today it’s Who wouldst thou strike. That leaves where, when, or how for tomorrow.

Well, I couldn't find a pic for Who wouldst thou strike, so I'm giving you What didst thou eat? But don't ask me what this is. We got it at a very fancy restaurant in a very non-fancy place. I think the meat in the middle picture is reindeer, but the rest of the stuff; no idea. So the question What did you eat, will have to go unanswered. 

 

What should this be?

 

-Sir John Falstaff

The Merry Wives of Windsor          Act V Scene v, Line 33

 

Well, I don’t have a heck of a lot to say about this line. They hear a noise, and Mistress Page says Alas, what noise?; Mistress Ford says, Heaven forgive our sins; Falstaff says What should this be?; the ladies yell Away, away!, and they all exit. And that’s that.

I think it would be only fair for us as the readers to say, What should this be?

 

What should this be? 

It's a golf course, knucklehead.

 

Apollo pardon

My great profaneness ‘gainst thine oracle.

 

-Leontes

The Winter’s Tale           Act III Scene ii, Line 152

 

Leontes is a pretty big butthead. In this scene he has just ignored a proclamation from the Oracle of Apollo and has been rewarded for his profaneness by having his son die. It really doesn’t pay to go against the gods, and Leontes is finding that out the hard way.

Literature, especially the really old stuff, is littered with the bodies of the many Leontes who went against the will of the gods. It just doesn’t pay.

And we're still swearing on the bible today, aren't we?