They told me that your name was Fontibell.

 -Bertram

All’s Well That Ends Well               Act IV, Scene ii, Line 1

How interesting that this would be today’s line. Early this morning (late last night), my wife and I became grandparents for the first time. They had told us previously that the name was going to be Penelope or Marcelina. However, we have been informed that the new arrival’s name is Priscilla. Priscilla Marcelina. So when I meet her I won’t be able to say ‘They told me that your name was Fontibell’, but I will be able to say ‘They told me that your name was Priscilla.’ Of course, since they live in Denver I won’t be meeting her for a while. And even when I do meet her, it’ll probably be a few years before Priscilla will be able to understand what I’m saying to her. But that’s okay.

 

I was going to post a pic of Priscilla, but I realized that that would be very presumptuous of me to post her picture on the internet. So I won't do that. Take my word for it: she's a little cutie. And here's a picture of my own little cutie. Her names not Fontibell either, it's Nina. No one had to tell me that, because we gave her that name. But you can say it if you want. You can say 'They told me that your name was Nina.'

 

 Why, all his behaviors did make their retire

To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:

His heart, like an agate, with your print impress’d,

Proud with his form, in his eye pride express’d:

His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,

Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;

All senses to that sense did make their repair,

To feel only looking on fairest of fair:

Methought all his senses were lock’d in his eye,

As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;

Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass’d,

Did point you to buy them, along as you pass’d:

His face’s own margent did quote such amazes

That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.

I’ll give you Aquitaine and all that is his,

An you give him for my sake but one living kiss.

 

-Boyet

 Love’s Labour’s Lost                          Act II, scene i, line 239

There is a very good reason that I'm giving you all sixteen lines of Boyet’s little speech here, and also why I'm not going to get into the context of it. Can you guess what this reason is? Well, it’s not iambic pentameter, that’s for sure. In fact, that is the reaon: It’s not iambic pentameter. It’s a tri-syllabic meter, isn’t it? I think it is. Read it aloud. In fact, try reading it in iambic pentameter. Da da, Da da, Da da, Da da, Da da. It doesn’t really work. No, it doesn’t. Now, try reading it like Seuss. Here's a Seuss sample:

I wish we could do what they do in Katroo,

They sure know how to say Happy Birthday to you

  

And here's a few lines from above:

His face’s own margent did quote such amazes

That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.

 

Absolutely! It’s Anapestic Tetrameter, by golly! What the heck do you think of that? It's William Shakespeare using Anapestic Tetrameter. An intersection of Shakespeare and Seuss. Who would have ever thought of that? Actually, well, me. And you saw it here first! No, not on Mulberry Street; here at Totally Random Daily Shakespeare.  

 

 

I don't have a copy of Love's Labour's Lost, but you get the idea.

 

 

 

 

 

Bear with him, Brutus; ‘tis his fashion.

-Cassius

Julius Caesar          Act IV, Scene iii, Line 134

 

Cassius and Brutus are in Brutus’s tent, and they have been fighting. A Poet barges in and tells them to settle down, and Brutus tells him to get lost. Cassius’s response to this is today’s line. Brutus doesn’t want to bear with him and says

        I’ll know his humor, when he knows his time:

        What should the wars do with these jigging fools?

        Companion, hence.

Cassius seconds that and the Poet leaves. So much for the Poet. 

I’m not quite sure what purpose the Poet serves in this scene, but I’m sure if you ask Marjorie, or Stephen, or one of those other Shakespeare super-nerds they could tell you. Unfortunately, they don’t read this blog. Hey, there’s an idea…maybe I should send them a link? Couldn’t hurt. Could it? Well, could it? Famous last words, eh?

 

 

I thought if I plugged one of his books that might help. I particularly liked the chapter The Limits of Hatred.

 

 

O, that we now had here

But one ten thousand of these men in England

That do no work to-day!

 

-Westmoreland

King Henry the Fifth               Act IV, Scene iii, Line 16

 

This is the set-up line to Henry’s speech about how glorious it’s going to be to fight in this battle. It’s the speech that includes the line

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

So here’s something to think about, and not just in relation to Will’s work: what about all those set-up lines? I’m talking about lines, like today’s, that no one remembers. Today’s is a really good example. Henry needed someone to complain about how great the odds against them were in order for him to go into his speech of how famous they’re all going to be for fighting against those odds. And he goes on about it quite a bit.

I guess some set-up lines are famous in themselves, though I can’t think of any right now. And a lot of famous lines and speeches don’t really require any set-up line. Like I think we need a bigger boat. Remember when Chief Brody says that in Jaws? There’s nobody else there right then. But he sees the shark surface, and how big it is, and he gives that line in response to that, not to anyone’s comment. Or maybe we can consider that the shark gave a sort of silent set-up line? Anyway, in Henry’s case he kind of needed the set-up line. Either way, the set-up line is underrated. At least in my opinion it is.

 

Here you go. This is the crumbling wall of a medieval town in France. Okay, it's not Agincourt where Henry gave his famous speech after that brilliant set-up line by Westmoreland, but it's the best I could do.

 

 

O Harry’s wife, triumph not in my woes!

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

 

-Duchess of York

King Richard the Third             Act IV, Scene iv, Line 59

 

Here’s a scene where three women sit and talk about all of the men and boys they’ve lost, mostly at the hands of Richard. It’s the Duchess of York who is the mother of Richard, Edward, and Clarence, Queen Elizabeth, the wife of Edward IV and the mother of the two princes killed in the tower, and Margaret (Harry’s wife above), the wife of Henry VI and mother of a different Edward. Yes, lots of dead kings and princes to be mourned, and yes, Richard had a part in a lot of that; but not all. Margaret’s husband Henry was a Lancaster and the other two women are Yorks, but right at this minute none of the women is really caring about sides. They’re just doing what women through the ages have done, mourning the loss of their men and boys to the machinations of war. Though to be fair, Margaret has been actively involved in the fighting, not just an innocent bystander. C’est la vie. Et la mort. N’est pas?

Since we're talking about people dying, and because I threw a little French at you, here's a pic of the girls in the Pantheon in Paris. It's full of a bunch of famous dead people, though I can't for the life of me remember whose body is in the background of this picture. I do know two things: One is that whoever it is, they're dead; and two is that Richard III didn't kill them.