‘Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling.

-Sir Oliver Martext

As You Like It     Act III, scene iii  Line 102

I thought this Sir Oliver Martext fellow was a pretty minor character, so I decided to google him to see what was out there on him. I found an interesting blog post suggesting that Sir Oliver Martext is a clue pointing to the conclusion that Christopher Marlowe wrote As You Like It. You can read about that if you like. Here’s the link: http://marlowe-shakespeare.blogspot.com/2010/10/significance-of-sir-oliver-mar-text-in.html

In any event, apparently Sir Oliver appears only in this scene with three speaking lines, and is mentioned in one other scene. And yet he gets the final line, alone, in Act III Scene iii. He’s been called out as a fellow who is incapable of performing a legitimate wedding and so Touchstone, Audrey , and Jaques head off to find a proper vicar. At which point Sir Oliver says ‘No matter, these knuckleheads aren’t going get me to change my calling by insulting me.’

Considering that there is no real character development of this guy, and no further appearances by him, it’s hard to see what this line has to do with anything, or what purpose it has. So maybe that lends credence to that blog post referenced above. Or maybe not. Who the heck knows?

What do you think?

Looks like these folks are looking for the Vicar to perform a christening. I hope the Vicar hasn't been flouted out of his calling!

O my dear father! Restoration hang

Thy medicine on my lips;

 -Cordelia

King Lear             Act IV, scene vii Line 26

I consider this a beautiful line. I believe there is no truer love expressed in all of Shakespeare’s works than the love shared between Cordelia and her father. And maybe that’s just the father of two Cordelias talking, I’m not sure.

In any event, Lear wakes up after this line and he and Cordelia have a reconciliation as only Shakespeare would paint it. Yes, they both end up dying a few scenes further down the road, but for now they are still both alive and together. If you have a daughter, or perhaps if you are a daughter, you might want to read the scene. It’s pretty short.

http://shakespeare.mit.edu/lear/lear.4.7.html

Remember, long story short, Lear gave his kingdom to the two daughters who falsely told him how much he loved them. Meantime he very foolishly rejected the third daughter Cordelia, the one who truly loved him, because she would not give him false flattery. The other two daughters ended up turning him out of house and home, and he wandered the heath in a storm going quite nearly mad. Now Cordelia is back, she’s found him and is looking after him.

I’ve got no more to add today.

Two Cordelias

Is it possible disdain should die while she hath

such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?

 

-Beatrice

Much Ado About Nothing           Act I, scene i       Line 112

So the key word in this line appears to be ‘disdain’. What exactly, and I do mean exactly, is disdain. It’s a not uncommon word, but do we really know its specific meaning. It’s a feeling of contempt for someone or something regarded as unworthy or inferior. That’s from merriam-webster.com. So this is a pretty good insult. As long as we’ve got Signior Benedick around, we’ll always have someone that we feel is contemptible. Well it turns out that these two, Beatrice and Signior Benedick have a bit of a running feud going on. They’ve not started some specific argument in this scene, but rather they are continuing something that appears to have been going on between them for some time. And it gives me great wonder as to whether or not there is really any disdain here, or whether they might not actually like each other and are simply using this ongoing spat as a way to continue to be able to interact with each other. I guess we’d have to either finish the play, or at very least read the summary, but I’m betting that they end up together before it’s all over. Any takers?

Okay, I read the last scene of the play. I win.

My friend is treating me with a certain amount of disdain by refusing to be photographed with me. But whether or not it's disdain, dis Spain.

They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase

Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes

From our achievements, though performed at height,

The pith and marrow of our attribute.

 

Hamlet

Hamlet                 Act I, scene iv    Line 22

This is Hamlet, one of the greatest, and perhaps the saddest, of Will’s creations. And this is a fabulous line. He starts out, in today’s Totally Random line, talking about the Danish people generally and excess drinking and celebrating specifically. He then immediately progresses in the lines that follow to talk about ‘particular men’ specifically (and I can’t but help feel that he’s referring to himself), and bad habits or aspects, ‘some vicious mole of nature’, generally. In both cases he’s remarking that one bad thing (in this case of the Danes, over-celebrating) can overshadow all the good things (again, in the case of the Danes, their good reputation).

Here, I don’t do this too often, but please read the whole passage. It’s not that long; twenty-six lines. If I can take the time to type it out, you can at least read it. It’s a little tough, but you can do it. I have faith in you. The custom he’s referring to in the beginning is drinking and revelry, and ‘they clepe us’ means  ‘they describe us’. The guts of this passage start on line 11, ‘So, oft it chances…’. Now give it a shot!

         Ay, marry, is’t:

         But to my mind, though I am native here,

         And to the manner born, --it is a custom

More honored in the breach than the observance.

This heavy-headed revel east and west

         Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations:

They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase

Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes

From our achievements, though performed at height,

The pith and marrow of our attribute.

So, oft it chances in particular men,

That, for some vicious mole of nature in them,

As, in their birth, --wherein they are not guilty,

Since nature cannot choose his origin,--

By the o’ergrowth of some complexion,

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason;

Or by some habit, that too much o’er-leavens

The form of plausive manners;--that these men,--

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,

Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star,--

Their virtues else—be they as pure as grace,

As infinite as man may undergo—

Shall in the general censure take corruption

From that particular fault: the dram of evil

Doth all the noble substance of a doubt

To his own scandal.

I guess I cheated to get to that last line: The dram of evil doth all the noble substance of a doubt to his own scandal. But it’s a good one (I think a famous one? Okay, sidebar here: apparently this last line is famous for confusing people. Well I’m not interested in that; I’m interested in the main thought of this passage, i.e. that one fatal flaw can ruin a person. So that’s where we’re going with this post.), and the follow through and re-statement of today’s Totally Random line: and, indeed, it takes from our achievements, though performed at height, the pith and marrow of our attribute. So please forgive me for cheating.

I’m not sure what Hamlet considers his own ‘dram of evil’ or ‘particular fault’, but I believe he’s saying that he’s got one and that it’s overshadowing all the good stuff he’s got. Maybe his indecisiveness or his inability to take action? Whatever it is, it's got him down.

How about this guy? What's his particular fault? I'm thinking it's not just one thing, if you know what I mean.

Thy other banisht son, with this dear sight

Struck pale and bloodless;

-Marcus Andronicus

Titus Andronicus              Act III, scene i    Line 258

This line is only a few lines above our August 29 post, so we’ve already discussed the two severed heads in this scene. In fact, today’s Totally Random line leads me to consider setting up some rules governing just how close to another line we can get before disqualifying it as being already covered. But for today, I’m going to give this line some coverage.

So we know what’s going on, and we can conclude without belaboring the point that we’ve sampled Titus again and we’re in the middle of horrible stuff again (actually, repeat of some same horrible stuff). So let’s just look at the words. What about using that ‘t’ instead of ‘ed’ in ‘banisht’? What’s up with that? At first I thought that it was just being used here instead of ‘banished’ for some artistic reason. But I went back to Richard II because, of course, Bolingbroke and Mobray get banished in that play. I found out that they got ‘banisht’ as well, with no sign of ‘banished’. So apparently that was the word back then, ‘banisht’. Both spellings come out sounding the same. I’m not sure how they got to banisht when they very obviously had adopted ‘ed’ for past tense at this point. I guess the next step is to see what the Brits are using today. Is it still ‘banisht’? I dunno. Any Brits out there?

In any event, this is our fifth go round with Titus Andronicus and not one of our Titus Totally Random lines has been in a scene that didn’t have horrible stuff, or wondrous things as Aaron refers to it. So maybe we should just make a rule about skipping Titus altogether? Well, give it some thought. In the meantime I hope you don't get faced with too much that leaves you pale and bloodless.

I think if I ran into this guy it would leave me pale and bloodless. First of all he's all ready for battle with the helmet and the sword, and yet he's buck naked. And second of all he's got a shaft of metal stuck in his leg. What in the world is going on with this guy?

Engage it to the trial, if thou darest.

-Duke of Surrey

King Richard the Second               Act IV, scene i    Line 71

Out of the Henry’s! Oh my goodness! Those Henrys, mostly the sixth, really had us monopolized there, didn’t they! And now we’re on to Richard the Second, which by the end of this play will get us into Henry IV. But we’re not there yet. Henry is actually in this scene, but he’s still Henry Bolingbroke, not King Henry. I’m not sure where he gets the Bolingbroke from. His dad is John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. But, oh well.

Now I have absolutely no idea what this line is about. And I don’t know who the Duke of Surrey is. Okay, some quick research, listened to the Arkangel version, some notes in my Penguin classics, Four Histories, and we're ready to go.

The Duke of Surrey just threw down his gage (glove), challenging Fitzwater to battle, and he follows it up with this line which is just daring him to accept his challenge. Long story short. ‘Pick up the glove and accept my challenge, if you dare!’ That’s what he’s saying.

So they do this a lot in these history plays. The stage direction says ‘he throws down his gage’. In fact, in this scene there’s a gage-fest going on. I counted six ‘he throws down his gage’s’. Surrey’s is the fifth. They throw down their glove to challenge to the other guy to fight. At one point in this scene one of the guys has to borrow a glove because he’s all out of gloves and wants to challenge another guy. Lots of gloves!

Here's my gage. I throw it down a lot. But it's not to challenge anyone. It's when I take off my gage to have a coffee break, or a lunch break. And half the time I don't remember where I threw my gage down, and then I spend a half hour looking for my gage. So I bought a second pair for those days when I throw down my gage and forget where I threw it.

You of my household, leave this peevish broil,

And set this unaccustom’d fight aside.

 

-Duke of Gloucester

Setting – The Parliament House

Present – King Henry, Exeter, Gloucester, Warwick, Somerset, Suffolk, Bishop of Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, Mayor, Serving Men, others
 
King Henry The Sixth Part I          Act III, scene i    Line 92

And lets get started with the next hundred posts. First off, can’t seem to shake the Henry’s; day eight without a break from them. Let’s just get at it then.

I think we’ll make this a rather short one. This is more of that War of the Roses thing. The different factions of the royal families not getting along. At this point the squabble has gone beyond the royals and out to the common folk. And the Duke of Gloucester is telling his followers to cut it out. But of course this is Act III of Henry The Sixth Part I. We still have Henry The Sixth Parts II and III, not to mention Richard III to go. So this squabbling’s not going to be stopping for quite some time yet.

Peevish broil! That’s what he wants them to stop. Now that’s an interesting couple of words. We don’t much use either of those words much anymore. Well, we use broil, but it’s a cooking term and wouldn't be used as a word for fighting. And peevish? The online MW site says it’s ‘easily irritated, especially by unimportant things.’ It’s a perfectly acceptable word. I don’t think I’d want to be called peevish. It sounds like another word for thin skinned. But I think I’ll keep this one in my vocabulary arsenal. Peevish. I might find a use for it. It’s one of those words that you can use on someone without them knowing exactly what you’re saying. But with this one I think they’d be pretty sure you’re not giving them a compliment. So use it carefully!

And one last thing, pretty much impeccable iambic pentameter today, eh?

Here’s a red and a white rose. According to the story, one day the principals of the different factions that fought the War of the Roses were in the palace garden and the leaders each picked a different colored rose and then had everyone there pick a rose, red or white, to show which side they were on. But it didn’t become known as the War of the Roses until much later. Why? Because the palace garden scene was fiction. Good fiction, but fiction none the less.  Did I already cover all of this in an earlier post? Apologies if I did.