Mojo, The Bard, & Me

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Edward’s seven sons, whereof thyself art one,

Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,

Or seven fair branches springing from one root.

 

Duchess of Gloster

King Richard the Second    Act I Scene ii, Line 11

Let me set the scene for you. We’re at John of Gaunt’s home with John and his sister-in-law the Duchess of Gloster. Her husband, John’s brother, was Thomas Duke of Gloster, and Thomas has recently been murdered. John and his sister (both of them being fairly old) are discussing the murder. John and Thomas were both sons of King Edward III who is long gone. Old Edward had a lot of sons.

John has just made the statement that he’s not going to take any action regarding the murder, but rather is going to leave it up to God to punish the murderers. The Duchess is not particularly happy with this response from John. She gives a pretty good speech. Check it out. Remember, it’s her husband who’s been murdered, and he was John of Gaunt’s younger brother.
 
Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward’s seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,
Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
Some of those seven are dried by nature’s course,
Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster,
One vial full of Edward’s sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is crackt, and all the precious liquor spilt,
Is hackt down, and his summer-leaves all faded,
By envy’s hand and murder’s bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb,
That metal, that self-mould, that fashion’d thee
Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest,
Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father’s death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father’s life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, — it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter’d,
Thou show’st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we entitle patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say? To safeguard thine own life,
The best way is to venge my Gloster’s death.

She pretty much covers all the bases, ending up with the argument that avenging the murder will be best for John of Gaunt’s safety. All that, and John of Gaunt is unmoved. Let God take care of it, he says.

I thought it was a pretty interesting rant by the duchess, and that’s why I decided to give you the whole thing. Also, it seemed to me that once you have the basic context of what she’s talking about, the whole rant is quite clear without any further explanation of Will’s language. Would you agree with that statement?

 

 

This guy's not agreeing or disagreeing with anything; as usual, he fell asleep on me. But hey, I just noticed something: he and I have pretty much the same sized ears. Albeit a bit different in shape and hair content, this little four-pounder has the same size ear as this big 227-pounder. That's pretty interesting. I think the Duchess of Gloster's rant is more interesting, but just in case you didn't care for that, you've got the ear thing to think about.