For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he’s more and more a cat.

-Bertram

All’s Well That Ends Well                 Act IV, scene iii, line 263

This is a pretty obscure bit of a line. I guess we don’t really need to know what the description of thine honesty was. Suffice it to say that the description was not flattering. Today’s Totally Random line is Betram’s comment about Parolles, the fellow who gave this unflattering description. A pox upon him, whilst a bit of an antiquated expression is pretty easy to understand.

But now wait a tic, let’s think about this for a minute. It's an old saying, A pox upon him, and yet how topical! We are in the middle of a pandemic. Not that I would ever use this line, but it would certainly be topical. A pox indeed!

Now consider how bad it would be to say to someone, I hope you catch Corona Virus! They'd probably arrest you just for saying it. So this old a pox upon you line is maybe worse than we had ever realized. 

Good ol' relevant Will. 

 

Well, believe it or not, these are the instructions for a board game called Pandemic. It's true: we have a game called Pandemic. The object of the game is to work together to stop a Pandemic. We're going to be playing this in the next day or so. I'll let you know how we make out.

This was a way to thrive, and he was blest:

-Shylock

The Merchant Of Venice                          Act I, scene iii, line 88

Well this is early on in the play and we have Shylock talking about being blessed. Grateful? Almost. Now, it’s not exactly a continuation of yesterday’s discussion, but it’s sort of related. And yes, this is Shylock talking about being blessed. Yes, Shylock. The guy who has been painted by history as the miserly villain. Perhaps he’s neither. 

Which brings me to the theme of our new book, which has yet to be titled. The working title is Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice Retold. That will probably be part of the title, or actually the subtitle. But in any event, a main theme of our retelling will be that things aren’t always what they seem. Like Shylock. At first blush, and certainly based on how he’s been treated by history, he’s the villain of this story. He’s irredeemable. But he’s really not. He’s got a good and human side, and today’s line is just one small sign of that. 

And now, just because you’ve taken the time to read this blog, I’m going to give you a real treat. No picture today, but instead I’m giving you a peek at the intro to our new book: the aforementioned Merchant retelling. You saw it here first. 

And, again, this is in lieu of a picture.

Introduction to The Merchant Of Venice Retelling

Many summers ago, back when I was still young,

On a warm August day, just to have me some fun,

I was out and about on my Schwinn ten-speed bike,

Not a care in the world, just as free as you like.

I had stopped for some traffic, and catching my breath.

I was wiping my brow, got a handful of sweat.

I was straddling my bike with my feet on the ground,

At Jackson and Park in the north end of town,

Where Park Ave is busy, and folks don’t slow down.

 

A car soon pulled up and, well, just like me,

They were waiting for traffic and looking to see.

And I turned and I looked, and I couldn’t help say

(To myself, not out loud) ‘don’t see that every day!’

A Volkswagen beetle, a bright yellow car,

Those beetles were small, well I guess they still are.

But this one was holding a guy who was big,

Hunched over the steering wheel, squashed like a fig.

And he had a big nose, and a big black mustache

He seemed all cramped up with his chin on the dash.

And the dog riding shotgun, well he was large too.

Out the window he hung, with a tongue dripping goo.

Then the guy turned and looked, saw me starin’ at him.

Said, ‘You look like you’re looking for trouble there, Jim.’

‘Well Jim’s not my name,’ I replied, ‘And what’s more,

Looks are sometimes deceiving, I know that for sure.’

He wasn’t expecting that answer, I guess

And it shut him down quick, not a word, no big mess,

Then he gunned it and left, nothing more, nothing less.

Now why have I told you this really old story,

‘Bout days of my youth, yes the days of my glory.

The thing is, a theme of this story herein,

The one that we’re almost about to begin,

It’s quite tricky, and easily missed and, well, so

I wanted to tell you and thought you should know.

Here it is, pay attention, I’ll say it real slow:

Appearance and truth, I guess that’s what I mean,

And that things aren’t always the way that they seem.

Who’s the good guy, who’s bad, whose intentions are high

Villain or victim, which one is that guy?

And is anyone happy or sad, if so, why?

Who loves who, who don’t care, who cares maybe too much?

Who is deserving of love and the such

And who is the friend that you’d want in the clutch?

These are some of the questions I hope you’ll consider

And maybe the answer will simply be neither,

Or both. I don’t know; That’s for you to find out,

But I think you can do it, in fact I’ve no doubt.

Just proceed with some care, don’t speed hastily through it

the story needs thought as you slowly review it.

Look at each situation, and see every side.

Try not to assume, keep your eyes open wide.

Be careful, consider; once, twice, three times even.

I’ll say it once more, one more time, then I’m leaving:

Remember that looks can sometimes be deceiving.

In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!



-Lear



King Lear                                Act III, scene iv, line 19



This is part of a longer piece, but today I’m just giving you this one line. It’s the cry of  a father who’s been turned out into the stormy night by his two daughters. If you stop to imagine it, this is a pretty rotten thing to have to endure. I can only imagine.

I guess my inclination is to be grateful for all that I have, especially with all that’s going on right now outside the four walls I call home. Very grateful.

They say it’s always good to stop and be thankful for what you have, because if you’re busy being grateful it’s harder to be mad, hurt, worried, whatever. So for now I’m grateful that I have a roof over my head; a comfortable home with people who love me. And I have two Cordelias; no Regans or Gonerils. I’m very grateful. Poor Lear.

My home. See what I mean? Very grateful.

You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear,

The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,

May now perchance both quake and tremble here,

When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.

Then know that I one Snug the joiner am,

No lion fell, nor else no lion’s dam;

For, if I should as lion come in strife

Into this place, ‘twere pity on my life.



-Lion (Snug the joiner)



A Midsummer Night’s Dream                  Act V, scene i, line 216



Well, a few things have occurred to me this morning:

One: I enjoy reading a random piece of Shakespeare, and usually a bit of what precedes and follows it and reflecting on it every morning. In fact, I look forward to it.

Two: I like writing about it because writing is always good. Writing is reflective. Also, if I don’t do it first thing in the day I probably won’t do it. And double-also, the writing doesn’t necessarily have to be about the line because sometimes the line (or just the mood I’m in) sends my reflections far afield.

Three: too often I don’t write, or don’t write enough.

Four: I’ve not published in my Blog post much of what I’ve written because I can’t find a pic to go with it, and I’ve insisted on pics because I’ve felt that a Blog without a pic will not be looked at or read.

Five: (and this is VERY important) almost no one looks at my Blog anyway, so why should I worry about the pic. Shall I repeat that?


Conclusion: I should write more in the morning, and if what I write is interesting and even slightly relevant to the random line (or even not very relevant, like this) I should publish it. If I can find a pic, good, and if I can’t, oh well.



Now, re today’s line: It’s Midsummer Night’s Dream which I’ve gone on record as saying I really don’t like. Well I’m starting to come around, and this line is one that I really know what the deal is. How about that? I know what the deal is! Ack, maybe I’m smarter than I think I am.


Anyway, this is the play within the play. Snug the joiner is coming on stage as the lion but he wants to make sure that he doesn’t scare anyone, so he’s letting everyone know that it’s him, and not a real lion. Remember, this is a comedy so that this is a piece that can really be funny. Oh, and he uses the word ‘fell’ as an adjective, meaning bad or evil, or something like that. Remember ‘one fell swoop’ from Macbeth?

This is not Snug the joiner playing the lion; this is Nutsy the pup playing the lion. I think she does a pretty convincing job.

I’ll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance

Your  skill shall, like a star i’th’darkest night,

Stick fiery off indeed.



-Hamlet



Hamlet                                    Act V, scene ii, line 256





Stick fiery off indeed.  Indeed!

This is the end of the play, Hamlet and Laertes are about to duel, and Hamlet is telling Laertes that the latter’s skill will shine. But he doesn’t say ‘shine’, he says that Laertes’s skill is going to like a star i’th’darkest night, stick fiery off indeed. It’s that last part that gets me. Stick fiery off indeed. I wasn’t expecting that. Like a star in the darkest night, shine brightly. Something like that was what I was expecting. But stick fiery off indeed. That’s interesting. What’s Will going for here? Why not just shine brightly? Clearly, stick fiery off indeed has got Will written all over it. Clearly shine brightly is way too simple. I suppose anything can shine brightly, but Laertes will stick out in the darkness and be fiery. He’ll blaze. Hmmm. Yes of course. 


Will does it again. Will sticks fiery off himself, doesn’t he. 

This is the backyard of my daughter’s place in Tennessee. That tiny white dot in the middle of the picture is me. On a warm summer night this whole field blazes with fireflies. They don’t stick fiery off, because it’s not one firefly. Instead the air is thick with their little twinkles. It’s much different than Will’s star, but the passage made me think of this nonetheless.

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,

Distill’d from limbecks foul as hell within,

Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,

Still losing when I saw myself to win!

What wretched errors hath my heart committed,

Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!

How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted

In the distraction of this madding fever!

O benefit of ill! now I find true

That better is by evil still made better;

And ruin’d love, when it is built anew,

Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.

So I return rebuked to my content,

And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

Sonnet 119                             



And there you go! Yeah, I don’t see the sense in giving you one line from a sonnet, so you get all fourteen. The one word here that might throw you is ‘limbeck’, so I’ll tell you that a limbeck is gourd shaped vessel used to distill spirits. Other than that it’s pretty straight forward, so I'll let you work through this one on your own.

This is Patrick Stewart on Instagram. He's posting a sonnet a day to help us all get through this Coronavirus thing.