What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

-Alonso

 

The Tempest                      Act III, scene iii  Line 17

The Tempest. A fabulous work. One of Shakespeare’s last plays and also one of the few (only?) plays that he actually created the story for himself. We think. But we don’t really know that for sure, because we just know so darn little about this guy and how he went about creating his works. Also it’s the play I know probably best of all Will’s works.

So our speaker today is King Alonso. He’s leading a small band of men around an island that they’re sort of shipwrecked on in search of his son. They’ve stopped to rest when suddenly they hear ‘Solemn and strange music.’ Now I could go into more context, but I’d rather spend some time talking/thinking about the music here. Music is a major theme in this particular play. In fact, there’s a whole masque that gets performed at one point in the play. A masque was (as I understand it, and you can correct me if you know better) sort of a musical dance spectacle done with people all dressed up in costumes. Apparently masques were performed in and of themselves, but in this play one is performed as part of the play. A little bit of a performance within a performance, not unlike the play within a play that we came upon yesterday in Hamlet. Random, eh?

So it kind of brings up the question of what kind of music they had when putting on a production like this in 1600. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t an orchestra pit, or anything near a full orchestra. Still, they must have had something to make some kind of music. We’re really going to have to get some kind of expert to start reading this thing so they can comment and maybe answer some of these questions. If you’re reading this and you know any experts you might want to try to get them involved. Okay? Meantime I’m guessing that whoever was playing the spirit Ariel (a character in the play I haven’t yet discussed) was probably providing some sort of music. So we’ll go with that for now.

Tomorrow back to Hamlet, Act One. This random stuff really bounces us around, doesn’t it?

Look, whe’r he has not turn’d his colour, and tears in’s eyes.

-Polonius

Hamlet                 Act II, scene ii    Line 517

Hamlet. Will’s longest, and arguably most famous work, and certainly a masterpiece. And yet, it’s a troubling little line to have to deal with today. I’m afraid I’m going to have to give a little context and try to squeeze a bit of meaningfulness out of it.

This play is full of complexities (one of the things that makes it great) and this scene is no exception. For those of you unfamiliar with the play (and if you’re reading this blog that would seem unlikely, nonetheless…), long story short: Hamlet has spoken with his dead father, King Hamlet (two different Hamlets, one a king, one a prince – keep them straight), who has informed Hamlet that he was murdered by Hamlet’s Uncle Claudius. Meanwhile Uncle Claudius, now King Claudius, has married King Hamlet’s widow Gertrude, making Uncle Claudius Hamlet’s stepfather. Hamlet has promised his dead dad, King Hamlet, that he will avenge his murder and spends the rest of the play acting strange and trying to figure out exactly how to carry out this pledge while everyone else tries to figure out what the heck he’s doing. Got it?

So I taught this play when I was doing my student teaching of high school juniors. We had a good time with it (well, I did, and I think some of them might have enjoyed it a little). I used Kenneth Branagh’s movie version a lot (which, by the way, if you’re going to watch a movie version of Hamlet, of which there are many, you can’t do any better than this one. Mel Gibson’s version- not so good, but on the other hand that one does have Ian Holmes playing Polonius, so that’s a plus.), but I don’t remember much about this scene. Anyway, the speaker of today’s Totally Random line is Polonius. He’s an advisor to King Claudius and he’s got a pretty big role in the play until he gets stabbed for hiding behind a bedroom curtain (let that be a lesson to you- never hide behind a bedroom curtain). At this point, well before the bedroom curtain scene, an acting troupe has arrived at the castle and they are reciting, impromptu, a scene for Hamlet and some others. Polonius’s Totally Random line is in reaction to these actors. There, it took two paragraphs, but that should tell you exactly where we are. Does it?

So Polonius is reacting to someone acting out the scene from a play (a play within a play, so to speak). But what’s he saying? I believe he’s impressed with the actor who’s so good that he’s made himself cry. I have to admit that I’m not quite sure what he’s referring to when he says the actor ‘has not turned his colour,’. I’m going to mull on that one and see if something doesn’t strike me during the day. So we’ll see if we can’t finish this fascinating, unprecedented post this evening.

Okay, I forgot that I have a bunch of Hamlet texts and one of them has a full modern day text and according to it the line means Look, he has turned pale and has tears in his eyes.  I was already on board with the tears, but I struggle to get to the ‘turned pale’ part. Oh well. That's okay. let's not be dismayed and just move on for now. The die tells me that tomorrow’s line will come from The Tempest, and that is one play that I know very, very well. So let’s be optimistic that we’ll be getting a good line and a proper discussion, with a somewhat better conclusion, tomorrow.

                                                    

His insolence is more intolerable

Than all the princes in the land beside:

-Duke of Somerset

King Henry VI Part II       Act I, scene i       Line 176

A lot of King Henrys in the past week, eh? Other than Macbeth’s phony toast to Banquo a few days ago it’s been all Henrys. So I’ve gotta talk about the Henry’s for a minute. Please try to bear with me; this might get a little tedious (right now you’re saying “going to get?”)

So Will covered eight British monarchs in his history plays, and five of them were successive (historically successive, not successive in order of the plays being written); Edward III, Richard II, and Henrys IV, V, and VI. And we can take Edward III off this list since it’s not in The First Folio and not in my compilation, so we won’t be covering it. Edward III is on some lists but not universally accepted as being written by Will. Pretty confusing, isn’t it? And the other three (not part of the successive ones) he did, King John, Richard III, and Henry VIII, were all one-offs. But of this successive group Will started with Henry VI, the last one, and he needed three separate plays to get through this one Henry. Also, these three Henry VI plays are arguably the first plays that Will wrote. I say arguably because we don’t really know for sure and it depends on whose list you look at. In any event, they were most assuredly written quite early in his career. But the main point here (if you’re still with me) is that Richard II through Henry VI Part III, a total of seven plays, is one long successive story. Now I’ve read Richard II through Henry V (though not recently), and I’ve even seen some of Richard II performed, but I’ve not read nor seen any of Henry VI. Anyway, since it’s all one long story, and basically historically accurate, it’s easier to follow if you’ve read/seen all seven of these plays, or alternatively you know some of the details of that seventy year period, roughly 1400 to 1470, give or take. Unfortunately I can’t lay claim to either of those and so I keep going back to play summaries and/or historical references. But since these seven plays take up almost 16% of the pages that I’m randomly sampling, you’d think that it might be in my best interest to cover them. Well, maybes I will. Eventually, not today.

So, if you’re still awake, today’s Totally Random Daily Shakespeare (I’ve been thinking of using the acronym TRDS, but that can come out sounding like turds, so maybe not) is His insolence is more intolerable than all the princes in the land beside. It doesn’t say much for all the princes in the land, does it? On the other hand, we don’t really need to go into much context if we don’t want to. And considering I just bored you to tears with the previous paragraph, I think I’ll stay away from context today. And besides, this context gets into the whole politics and who’s who of the play/period, which I’ve just confessed I don’t know enough about. But on a completely non-contextual note, this can still be a good line and perfect for a young male. I can see using it in reference to a particular thirteen year old I know who can certainly, at times, be insolent. And by using it then I guess I would be calling him a prince and not in a complimentary fashion. So it’s a good line today. Good, and usable. Totally Random Daily Shakespeare strikes again.

                                                                                                                        

More can I bear than you dare execute.

-Duke of Suffolk

King Henry VI Part II       Act IV, scene i    Line 130

Great line! Okay, I’m not going to do any contextualizing or real analysis of this one. I’m just going to sit back and enjoy it.

More can I bear than you can execute. My goodness. Them’s fightin’ words! I don’t know who the Duke of Suffolk is or who he’s talking to, but he’s clearly not afraid of whoever it is. More can I bear! You can’t do nothin’ to me buddy! I guess it could also be used for one of those guys who think they’re the tough guy and don’t realize that the guy they’re talking to is gonna kick their butt. Yeah, it could be that. But I’d rather think of it being said by the guy who really is the tough guy. Or just the guy who’s not afraid and can’t be intimidated; the old fashioned hero like Rambo, or the Rock, or somebody like that.

So it’s a really good line today. One that I guess you can use. It’s got just enough juxtaposition of wording to make it a little confusing if the person you say it to isn’t used to this type of language (or just plain not that bright). And that might be a good thing if the person you say it to is about ready to kick your butt and they’re a lot bigger than you. It might freeze them in confusion just long enough for you to get away (in which case this probably isn’t the line for you anyway). On the other hand if you really are not afraid of what the other person can do then it’s a fabulous line. In fact, it’s made me want to see what the Duke of Suffolk is talking about and to whom he’s saying it. So I’ll be looking at that today, but just for fun. Meantime I’ll just be enjoying the line for what it is; a bit of Hollywood bravado.

Okay, little bit of a postscript here. I did a little reading of the part that leads up to this line and it appears that the Duke of Suffolk is saying this right before he gets led away to be executed. So I guess that changes the meaning of the line in this context a little, but then again, not all that much. I think this Duke is still pretty bad ass.

               

Would he were here! To all, and him, we thirst,

-Macbeth

Macbeth              Act III, scene iv  Line 89

And we’re back to Macbeth. Third time’s the charm.

This is our protagonist Macbeth talking. The ‘he’ in the line is Banquo. Banquo is his friend who Macbeth has had murdered a scene or two earlier. Now Macbeth is at a dinner and he’s making a toast to Banquo. From my point of view he’s doing one of two things; he’s being completely duplicitous and trying to remind everyone that he’s Banquo’s friend and thereby divert suspicion from himself (the rest of the people at this banquet don’t yet know that Banquo’s been murdered), OR he’s regretting having Banquo killed and he really does wish that Banquo were here, alive and well. And I believe it’s the latter. Seconds before this toast Macbeth saw Banquo’s ghost. He’s tormented by what he’s done. He’s the reluctant bad guy throughout this whole play. For a lot of the stuff it’s his wife egging him on. Behind every great man…

So I think it’s a genuine wish on Macbeth’s part. What do you think? I guess you’d have to read a bit of the play to decide on this one. It’s a good play and worth a read. And readable (as opposed to just seeable). It’s relatively small print in my book, but only 26 pages. I’ve posted links to sites that have the full plays online. If you’re going to start with any of Will’s plays to read, this would be a good one. Well, it’s just a thought.

Let’s see, what else can we say about this one this morning? ‘Would he were here!’ I guess we all have people we could say that about ‘Would he/she were here!’ Maybe they’re gone from this life, or maybe they’re just not right here right now. Luckily most of us wouldn’t say that about someone that we’ve had murdered. So in our case it’s an okay thing to say ‘Would he/she were here!’ It’s very okay. It just means there’s someone out there, or someone who was out there, who is or was a good thing in our life. So we’re thinking about that goodness and we can be glad for that. There, I feel better now. That Macbeth play can really bring me down! Maybe you shouldn’t read it.

                                        

Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight is

your degree, and your place the dale:

-Falstaff

King Henry the Fourth Part II      Act IV, scene iii  Line 6

So we have managed to randomly progress (or is it digress? Or congress?) over the past three days from Henry VI to Henry V to Henry IV. The only way to improve on this is to come up with Richard II tomorrow (No, Will did not write a play on Henry III, and it was Richard II who was the immediate predecessor to Henry IV). We’ll see.

Anyway. Checking my cheat sheet I see that we visited Henry IV Part I, but not Part II (two separate plays, one Henry), and that on that visit we also heard from Sir John Falstaff. Very interesting (at least I think it is, you can disagree).

So as I mentioned in that post, this Falstaff fellow is a pretty famous character of Will’s. And he’s mostly comic relief. As well (and I’m not actually sure about this, I’ll have to do some research) I believe that Falstaff is a purely fictional character in a pretty much historically accurate play. Falstaff is the drinking buddy of Hal, the son of Henry IV. And Hal becomes Henry V in, well, Henry V. And in Henry V we see the king who leads the English to victory in France. Henry V is pretty famous in English history. The battle of Agincourt where Henry V leads them to victory is sort of like Washington crossing the Delaware for the Brits. However in Henry IV (which is where we’re at today) Henry V is still Prince Hal, and Falstaff is Falstaff. Much of Falstaff’s time in this play is spent in the Boar’s Head Tavern, but in this scene he’s actually out in the forest, near a battle that’s going on (I think he’s hiding from the battle) and he’s just met up with Coleville who is one of the rebels they’ve been facing.

But what about the line, Pete? What about that line? Okay, I’m getting to that. This is the very beginning of the scene. Falstaff meets Colevile in the forest and asks his name, rank, and where he’s from. Colevile answers ‘I am a knight, sir; and my name is Colevile of the dale.’ To which Falstaff replies with today’s Totally Random line. So it’s not a terribly enlightening line. He simply repeated what Colevile just said. Which if he’d done that today there’s a good chance you’d reply ‘Is there an echo in here?’

Okay, so Falstaff is comic relief. That being said, is this line funny? All he did was pretty much repeat what the guy had just said to him. Why is that funny? Well here’s the thing; on paper it’s not. With the right actor delivering the lines properly it might be hilarious. That’s just the way it is. Delivery is everything. Look at Kramer in Seinfeld. He didn’t really have very many funny lines. His humor is his physical movements and delivery. It’s true of almost any comic performer. Some rely more on the words, others less. I’ve never seen any of the Henry plays performed. I’ve listened to some, but not this one. So I don’t know if this line is funny. And I don’t know exactly what Falstaff would do to make his lines funny. I know it could be. I know that because almost any line can be made funny. If you get a chance, check out Billy Crystal and Robin Williams in Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet. Classic examples.

The taste whereof, God of his mercy give

You patience to endure, and true repentance

Of all your dear offences!

-King Henry

 

King Henry the Fifth       Act II, scene ii    Line 179

All right then, from Henry VI to Henry V. And it’s not such an outlandish thing to work backwards since Will wrote that way. That is to say, he wrote Henry VI first, and then went back and worked his way through Richard II, Henry IV, and Henry V which is in proper order. Anyway, some minor context here; the line previous to this is ‘Get you, therefore, hence,/ Poor miserable wretches, to your death:’ So that the ‘Taste’ being referred to in today’s Totally Random line is the taste of death. Ouch.

Not much needed to explain here. He’s sentenced these three guys (Lord Scroop, Earl of Cambridge, and Sir Thomas Grey) to death for being traitors to England. They don’t deny it. Today’s Totally Random line are Henry’s last words to these guys before they’re led away.

So this line is not that much unlike the line you hear in modern shows where the judge decrees the death sentence in a court and follows it up with ‘And may God have mercy on your soul,’ or some such thing. Now I’ve never been in a real court where a judge passed a death sentence (and I’m guessing most of you haven’t either) and hopefully I never will (and I’m guessing most of you are hoping so too), so I don’t know if the judge would really say this. But even if it’s only theater nowadays, doesn’t it bear a really strong resemblance to what they were saying (at least in the theater) four hundred years ago. Of course, there’s a good chance that these three guys were going to be put to death in a most hideous way, which is something they liked doing back then. So when the king talked about the ‘patience to endure’ he wasn’t kidding. And therein is the big difference between then and now. These days we go to the movies to see our blood and gore, and it’s all fake. Elizabethans weren’t seeing that at the theater, they were going to the public executions to see the real thing. So that’s something to think about. We’ve become more civilized in that we don’t torture people to death in public. And yet, we still seem to have the need to see this same thing, albeit simulated, at the movies. Curious, isn’t it?

And that’s about all I have to say about that.