And dying eyes gleam’d forth their ashy lights,

Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.

Narrator

Lucrece                                                Line 1,378

And here is new territory for us today. Lucrece, also known by the title The Rape Of Lucrece, is an 1,855 line poem by Will. It is, as you might expect, about the rape of a lady named Lucrece. In my compilation it is titled simply Lucrece.

So what do we have for today’s line? It’s sort of interesting, and I’ll give you a little context. Lucrece was raped in her own bed the previous night by a house guest. Her husband is away, the house guest/rapist has left and now Lucrece is wandering around the house quite understandably distressed. She’s stopped at this moment in the poem to look at a painting on the wall. It’s a painting of the battle of Troy. The description of the painting goes on for a whole page, and today’s line is at the beginning. I’m going to give you the whole seven lines of this stanza that are near the beginning of the description of the painting.      

                A thousand lamentable objects there,

                In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life:

                Many a dry drop seem’d a weeping tear,

                Shed for the slaughter’d husband by the wife:  

                The red blood reek’t, to show the painter’s strife;

                                And dying eyes gleam’d forth their ashy lights,

                                Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.

So you can sort of get a little better sense of the meaning of these words (at least I think you can) with the whole stanza there. Remember, this is presumably a picture of a battle with a bunch of people getting killed. And be advised that as Lucrece is looking at the painting she is not doing very well at all dealing with having been raped, and in fact is going to kill herself over it before this poem is over. All in all, it’s not a very upbeat poem. 

So it might be easy to read into today’s Totally Random lines that Will is really talking about Lucrece when he talks about those ‘dying eyes’ and their ‘ashy lights, Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.’ Lots of interesting word choices here. Both lines have subjects described as ‘dying’. The lights are ‘ashy’. That’s an interesting adjective: ‘Ashy ligts’. What image does that conjure? I guess, followed up by the ‘dying coals’ line, we can imagine the wood in the fire after it’s burnt down and we can see a little red among the gray ashes? The flames are long gone, just a memory. The fire is still hot underneath, it’s got life, but left as is it’ll grow cold.

Well, that’s a fairly in-depth analysis of the lines, certainly more than we usually get into. But what’s it telling us? I guess it’s telling us that Lucrece is a goner. And, unfortunately, she is. More than that? I dunno. I don’t want this to get into an English class, but every once in a while I think it’s good to really get into the language. Don’t you agree?

One last note on this stanza: When reading the phrase ‘art gave lifeless life’ for some reason it made me think of that famous Keats poem Ode on a Grecian Urn. If you’re interested you can take a look at that one here. It’s only fifty lines, as opposed to 1,855 lines.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/44477

It’s a very different poem, and quite different in mood, not nearly so dark like Lucrece. But there’s something in there that made me think that John Keats drew something from Lucrece. What do you think?

So that fire there's got quite a bit of life left, the flames are still red. I was trying to find a picture of ashy lights, but this is all I could come up with. And yet, it might be the perfect photo for today's stanza. This is an old photo and that's my old friend Matt there in the sweater vest. He's been gone for several years now, and yet 'in scorn of nature' the art of this photo gives 'lifeless life.'

You must begin,-- ‘Will you, Orlando,’--

Rosalind

As You Like It                                     Act IV, scene i    Line 125

This is Rosalind telling her cousin Celia what she has to say in order to perform the wedding of her, Rosalind, and Orlando. So what do we think of that? Celia is not a minister or justice of the peace, or vicar. So why does Rosalind think it’s okay for her to perform a wedding. I don’t really know. If I’m not mistaken these two do manage to get married by the end of the play, don’t they? But right now they’re in a big old rush and you know it's not gonna work out here. But I guess that’s true of lots of couples down through the ages.

Now it just occurred to me that we had another screwy wedding related scene in this play a few weeks back. It was 11/28 and in that scene they actually had a vicar but decided that he wasn’t good enough. And now in this scene they’re trying to make a go of it without a vicar, or a justice of the peace, or anything. What’s up with these kooks?

This is Betty and Mitzy working on this scene. I think they've just finished a few rounds at the bowling alley. They've talked Officer Bob into standing in as Orlando, but I don't think he's all that keen about it. My guess is that Officer Bob doesn't even know the lines he's supposed to be saying. In fact, he looks a little pissed off. But Betty and Mitzy look pretty happy about things, don't they?

But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

Montano

 

Othello                                                 Act II, scene i     Line 60

Well for goodness sakes, let’s start with ‘good lieutenant’ because it’s our good friend good Michael Cassio that’s being addressed here as good lieutenant. I think that this is only the second time in about 130 Totally Random lines (I guess I could go back and check them all, but I probably won’t) that we have someone being addressed as ‘good’. And guess what? Both times it’s been good Michael Cassio being addressed! Amazing! And the last time he was being addressed as ‘good’ I got all excited about it. Here’s the post if you don’t believe me. So that’s pretty interesting in and of itself, and it also tells you that this guy is good!

Next we have this word lieutenant. I’m not sure whether or not you’re all aware of it or not, but the Brits pronounce this word Lef-ten-ant, as opposed to Lu-ten-ant. Now I have no idea where they got this Lef-ten-ant thing, but like most Brit-speak, I love it. I think I’ve gotten into this stuff before. Schedule is sshhezule, and scenario is senahhrio, and it goes on and on. Yes, Lef-tenant. 

And finally, wived. Is your lieutenant wived? Who makes a verb out of wife? I guess Will did. I had an English professor when I was getting my MAT about ten years ago who hated when people made verbs out of nouns. I’m not sure what exactly his issue was, but for some reason he just didn’t like it. Well Professor Smart, here’s old Will making a verb out of wife. So I guess you can’t get too wigged out over that.

Now all we’re left with is wondering why Montano is asking good Michael Cassio whether his general is wived. And I'm going to leave it up to you to find the answer to that question.

Yes, believe it or not, even a kook like me can be wived. This is a picture of me and my beautiful wife. Can you, by any chance, guess where we are?

I know vat I have to do. Adieu.

Doctor Caius

The Merry Wives of Windsor                  Act V, scene iii   Line 5

And finally, we’ve got a sample from The Merry Wives Of Windsor. I believe this is the first time we’ve gotten to this work and if I’m not mistaken, the only play now left in my compilation that we’ve not randomly sampled is Julius Caesar. I’ll do some reconnaissance on my random die system just to make sure that numbers 550 to 610 (the corresponding pages in my compilation) are not problematic. I don’t suspect that they are and I’m pretty sure we’ll get to Julius Caesar, as well as back to The Wives, eventually.

Now, The Merry Wives. As I think I mentioned once, this is a play that Will wrote specifically to resurrect the character of Sir John Falstaff. You’ll recall that we’ve twice discussed the scenes in Henry V, here and here that relate to the passing of good Sir John. I’ve also previously mentioned, and reiterate here, that I know very little about this play. And since this is our first foray in, and also because this line is only three pages from the end of the play and I have no idea what’s taken place up to this point, I think we’ll stay in the dark for now and just focus on the line that we have.

This is the first instance I’ve run into where Will is writing the replication of an accent into the script. The ‘vat’ in today’s line is his way of saying how a Frenchman (apparently Dr. Caius is French) would say the word ‘what’. I thought this was what Will was doing but I wasn’t sure, and so I thumbed through the play and can see that the lines of Dr. Caius have these types of spelling throughout. So I think that’s pretty interesting. Vat do you theenk? Will had a healthy sampling of latin and greek, as well as real French in his plays, so he relied on a fairly well educated audience. In this case, however, he’s just working with a bawdy French accent; fairly low brow stuff.

Brief program note: I missed the last two nights due to some health issues. We'll see if we can keep that from happening again. Also, I'm counting this post as Friday, 12/23 post, even though it's now a few hours into Saturday, Christmas Eve. No promises for the next two nights' posts, but we'll try.

And if I don't make it, Merry Christmas!

This is pretty  much the extent of my personal library (I know, pretty messy). I looked all through here for some vestige of the seven years of French that I took, but no luck. And after that seven years, what is the extent of my understanding of French? Well, I understood today's line. And that's pretty  much how I would say it in French. 'I know vat I have to do.'

What is your gracious pleasure?

Seyton

Macbeth                                              Act V, scene iii   Line 29

I’m not sure who this Seyton fellow is, but apparently a lackey of Macbeth. We’re near the end of the play here, just a few pages away from Macduff showing up with Macbeth’s severed head. But for the time being Macbeth’s head is still attached to his shoulders. And the eyes in that head can see that things are starting to unravel, so he calls for his lackey and Seyton comes running asking, with today’s Totally Random line, what his boss wants. All the boss wants is news, but the news tells him that he’s in trouble.

By the way, we’re only one page further on from Lady Macbeth’s line of ten days ago. She was unraveling then, and now the whole thing is coming down on them fast.

Without getting bogged down in the details too much, I thought it might be interesting to look at the name of today’s speaker: Seyton. I couldn’t help but notice that it’s a homonym for Satan. I wonder if that’s a coincidence. It’s not really a major role, but just the same it’s the name of the guy who sticks with Macbeth throughout his devilish reign. Well, something to consider, perhaps oh so briefly.

And one more thing, do you suppose there’s any chance that somewhere along the line, either with the guys putting together the First Folio or even previous to that, someone screwed it up and the line is supposed to read ‘What is your grace’s pleasure?’ It would sound exactly the same when spoken. I don’t know, but that seems to make a little more sense. What do you think?

What do you suppose their pleasure is, gracious or otherwise?

Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,

I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves

So long as I could see.

Captain

 

Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will         Act I, scene ii      Line 15

This is a pretty interesting line. We were on this same page, just a few lines up from this line, back in the beginning of November. That was just fifteen lines earlier when Viola was asking where they were. Her second question is about her brother who apparently got lost in a shipwreck that she survived, and the captain is telling her that he saw the brother, so we don’t know for now what happened to him. My guess, though, is that he’ll be showing up later in the play, especially since there’s a brother of Viola listed in the cast of characters.

So this line has the word dolphin, not to be confused with dauphin, which we all now know refers to the heir to the French throne. I thought it would be good to make that clear one more time.

I also thought it might be interesting to look at a comparison of today’s lines with the lines from The Tempest in a similar situation. Viola is worried that her brother drowned, and in The Tempest the king is ashore after a shipwreck and he’s worried that his son has drowned. In The Tempest one of the king’s men says of the prince

                I saw him beat the surges under him,

                And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,

                Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

       The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head

       ‘Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’d

       Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

       To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d,

       As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt

       He came alive to land.

And here’s today’s full passage, the captain speaking after Viola notes that hopefully her brother’s not lost.

                True, madam; and, to comfort you with chance,

       Assure yourself, after our ship did split,

       When you, and those poor number saved with you,

       Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,

       Most provident in peril, bind himself-

       Courage and hope both teaching him the practice-

       To a strong mast that lived upon the sea;

       Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back,

       I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves

      So long as I could see.

Anything? Well they were both worrying about someone who they thought had drowned and they both got stories from someone who thought they saw the person not drowning. So I thought it might be worth comparing. You can see that one guy held 'acquaintance with the waves' and the other guy kept 'his bold head 'bove the contentious waves.' So in one the waves were acquaintances and in the other they were contentious. Okay, you don't find that interesting? Well I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do right now. It's getting late and I have to be up early tomorrow to get to work. Remember, I'm working now, so you have to cut me some slack. I'll see if I can make up for it tomorrow.

This is the workbag I'm using for my new job. It holds a laptop and my planner and the moleskine I use for this blog. I keep the moleskine with me in case I come up with any amazing ideas during the day. My son calls the bag a manpurse. He always finds ways to make me feel good.

By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him.

Second Serving-Man

Coriolanus                                          Act IV, scene v Line 148

The third time in four days that we hit Coriolanus, so that’s kind of interesting. This line is from the scene where Coriolanus goes over to the Volscians and offers to fight with them against Rome. In the beginning of the scene no one there knows who he is and he’s trying to talk the servants into letting him into the feast so he can talk to the Volscian general Tullus Aufidius. The servants are ready to throw him out, but finally Aufidius comes out to see what’s going on and he accepts Coriolanus in. Then, left alone, the servants discuss Coriolanus and what just occurred. Today’s Totally Random line is in reference to Coriolanus. I think for his sake, it’s a good thing that Second Servant-Man hadn’t ‘strucken him with a cudgel.’ It probably would have been the last person he would ever have strucken with a cudgel or anything else for that matter.

There’s plenty of stories and songs about really tough guys who are mistaken for not so tough guys. In most of those stories someone ends up paying the price for it. In the case of today’s line, no one paid a price.

And isn't that a great word- cudgel. The modern definition says short thick stick. I'm guessing the Shakespeare glossary is something like that too. You don't hear the word cudgel too much anymore, but it's a great sounding word.

So we could get into that old judging a book by its cover thing (which, by the way, is pretty important if you’re trying to publish and sell a book. At least that’s what I hear), but that's nothing new with Will. We know very well how Will loves to use all sorts of ways to paint his characters as different from what they really are. Sometimes he does it in obvious fashion, like having Rosalind in As You Like It dress up as the man Ganymede. Sometimes it's like Coriolanus here showing up looking more like a beggar than a general. And sometimes it's much more subtle. But Will loves this kind of stuff and he's really good at it. 

A little program note here. I started a new job on Wednesday. Yes, back to the world of accounting. Now I had not been working for about a year, so it was a little easier to do this blog. But the important thing is that I'm still enjoying doing it, so we'll keep working on it and see how it goes. And as a side note I should mention that my job is about a half hour commute each way, so I intend to utilize that time to listen to some Arkangel Shakespeare in the car. Gonna start with the Richards and Henrys. One more thing; I missed my post last night not because of the new job, but because my friend was down here in my office monopolizing my PC. But you can bet that we'll be working something out so that won't be happening again. Okay, here's your pic for today. You earned it (well, it's nothing great, so don't get too excited).

These are my old cudgels. They hang in the rafters above my desk. I have a newer set of Calloway X Hots in my bag that I use on the course. I have not ever strucken anything but golf balls with my cudgels. I'd like to keep it that way.