All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:



-Jaques



As You Like It                                      Act II, scene vii, line 140





Well, we’ve done it. Nearly four years into this exercise, random line # 1281, and we’ve come upon one of Will’s most famous lines, All the worlds a stage. Wow, what’re we going to do with this? I’ll tell you what. We’re going to give you Jaques’s whole speech, of which these are just the first two lines. It’s a fabulous speech, and I hope you like it. It might look a little long, but it’s well worth it.

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. As, first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.

And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to  his mistress’ eyebrow. Then the soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

  

Wonderful, wonderful lines.

That is a very old, very elaborate stage behind me, pre-dating even Will. But then, all the world's a stage, isn't it. 

Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la truie lavee au bourbier: thou makest use of any thing.



-Dauphin



King Henry The Fifth                      Act III, scene vii, line 65



Well the Google translation says ‘the dog returns to its own vomiting, and the sow washes in the quagmire.’ 


This scene is in the French camp the night before the battle of Agincourt, and we have the Duke of Orleans, the Constable of France, and the Dauphin talking. The conversation is about horses and mistresses, and the Dauphin has said that his horse is his mistress, which is a bit odd. They go back and forth, and at this point is hard to say whether the different speakers are talking about women, or horses, or both, or neither. 


Today’s Totally Random line is the Dauphin’s reply to the Constable, and, I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s all that complimentary. I mean, if I said to you “Just as the dog will eat his own vomit, and the pig will bath in the mud, you are capable of doing just about anything.” It seems to be saying that the Dauphin is telling the Constable that he, the Constable, would settle for anyting/anyone for a mistress. Or is he talking about horses? Or something else all together? Hard to tell. 

Horse. Sort of.

Talk not of standing.—Publius, good cheer;

There is no harm intended to your person,

Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.



-Marcus Brutus



Julius Caesar                           Act III, scene i, line 90



Publius is one of the roman senators, and Brutus is giving him today’s Totally Random lines so that no one panics. Why would anyone panic? Probably because Brutus and his cohorts have just stabbed Julius Caesar to death on the steps of the Capitol. That would be a little alarming if you happened to be there, wouldn’t it? That’s right, we’re just eleven lines down from the stage direction that tells Julies Caesar to die. Typically, that stage direction is fairly terse: dies. Yup, that’s it, dies.

Well, I dipped back into my 2016 Spain pics again for this one. It's from the Roman ruins in Merida, and this one has a nice spring bloom going on. So we've got the roman tie-in for Julius Caesar (for all we know he might have stood in this spot) and the spring tie-in because it's a spring day today. Sound good?

O, he’s the very soul of bounty!



-Third Lord



Timon Of Athens                                 Act I, scene ii, line 213



This is the early part of the play where Timon has not run out of money yet, and he’s giving lavish gifts to everyone. So the Third Lord’s line is, I guess, pretty accurate. No sarcasm or anything like that going on here. No worries though, it’s all going to turn sour for Timon pretty soon and there'll be plenty of time for sarcasm, cynicism, and all that good stuff.

Yes, this is a different (very different!) Timon. I couldn't come up with any meaningful picture this morning, so I'm giving you this guy. He looks pretty optimistic, so he's fine for Act I; not so much for Act V. But that's for another day.

--But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother’s admiration? Impart.

-Hamlet



Hamlet                                     Act III, scene ii, line 346



Hamlet and Rosencrantz are chatting, and the subject has turned to Hamlet’s mother. Remember, Rosencrantz is an old friend of Hamlet’s, but at this point he’s really just spying on Hamlet for Gertrude and Claudius, and Hamlet knows it. So all of Hamlet’s replies to Rosencrantz are laced with sarcasm, cynicism, or just plain nonsense. Rosencrantz has said to Hamlet that Hamlet’s behavior hath struck her into amazement and admiration. I’m pretty sure that he means that Hamlet’s mother doesn’t understand Hamlet’s strange behavior. But Hamlet pretends that he thinks it means that he’s done a good thing, so he replies



            O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother!—But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother’s admiration? Impart.



So he’s really just being a wise-ass at this point. This is a good picture of the puzzle that is Hamlet. 

Here's another puzzle for you, though admittedly it's got nothing to do with Hamlet. This is Sainte-Chapelle in Paris and it's a puzzle for a few reasons. First, it's nearly impossible to find this place. It's tucked away behind some other buildings a few blocks away for Notre Dame. Second, it's a puzzle how they ever put this thing together. The size of these windows and the fact that they take up the whole wall of the building is amazing. Third, how the heck are you supposed to appreciate the beauty and detail of these windows? They're so high that you can't get anywhere near them. Yes, nothing to do with Hamlet, but puzzling nonetheless.

Sweet  marjoram.


-Edgar



King Lear                          Act IV, scene vi, line 94



Marjoram is a minty herb. I found that out by googling it. It’s not an old, Shakespearean word, and in fact it’s not in the glossary of the Shakespeare app on my phone. It’s just a regular garden-variety word. Did you get the double entedre there? 


I’m not sure what Edgar means by it, if anything. This is the scene where Edgar and blind Glouster have run into Lear. The latter appears to be quite mad (insane) at this point and he’s just finished a paragraph of seemingly incoherent ramblings when Edgar interjects ‘Sweet marjoram’, and Lear responds simply, ‘Pass’. 

So, what does Edgar mean by ‘Sweet margoram’? You tell me.

This is a picture of the mint growing outside my window. It comes back up every year and grows like a weed. It's not exactly marjoram, as far as I know, but does this help in figuring out what Edgar means? Probably not.

I’ll bring him to you.—

[to the Senators]Let me desire your company: he must come,

Or what is worst will follow.



-Menenius Agrippa



Coriolanus                               Act III, scene i, line 334



‘Him’, in the line above is Coriolanus. Menenius and the senators and the tribunes have been discussing Coriolanus, and Menenius has agreed to go get the fellow. When Coriolanus comes before them all he ends up getting banished from Rome. And of course that doesn’t work out particularly well for anyone, does it?


Interesting phraseology: Let me desire your company. It’s perfectly understandable, and yet it’s not something you would ever hear, except perhaps in genteel British society. It takes the onus off of you and puts it on me. It also seems a bit subservient. He’s not telling the senators what to do. He’s telling the senators what he’s doing: he’s desiring their company. Let me desire your attention to the picture below.

If you were talking to the lady who lives here you might say something like let me desire your company. This is Windsor castle, and the lady living here is Queen Elizabeth II. You're probably not going to be talking to her anytime soon.