You have prevail’d: I will depart in quiet,

And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. 

 

-Antipholus of Ephesus

 

The Comedy Of Errors          Act III, Scene i, Line 36

 

Okay, how about a little context. In this scene Antipholus and Dromio, both of Ephesus, are trying to gain entry to their home, but Dromio of Syracuse is on the other side of the door and refusing to let them in. They are accompanied by Balthazar the merchant and Angelo the goldsmith. Antipholus is pretty worked up, and he’s ready to break the door down. Balthazar tells him to be patient because if he breaks the door down it will cause a scene that the whole town will know about, and it will be a slander upon Antipholus that he will never live down. Today’s line is Antipholus agreeing with Balthazar.  And that’s about all I've got for this one.

 

 

Well, I haven't posted for a bit, and the reason is that I was away. Since I couldn't find anything better for today's pic I thought I'd share a pic from where I was for the past eight days.

 

Have a care of your entertainments: there is a

 friend of mine come to town, tells me there is

 three cozen-germans that has cozen’d all the

 hosts of Readins, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of

 horses and money.

-Sir, Hugh Evans

The Merry Wives of Windsor     Act IV, Scene v, Line 74

 

Cozen is in the modern dictionary and it means ‘to deceive, win over, or induce to do something by artful coaxing and wheedling or shrewd trickery’. That’s straight out of MW online. So, for you folks who like to claim that Shakespeare’s works are written in another language – well, they’re not.

To be clear, this is two different languages; Norse and English to be precise. Yes, I did try the reindeer, and no, I did not try the whale.

 

 

I remember.

-Puck

A Midsummer Night’s Dream         Act II, Scene i, Line 154

And of course the first question must be, what does Puck remember? I’ll tell you what he remembers. He remembers Oberon telling him about the time that the latter                         

        Since once I sat upon a promontory,

        And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin’s back

        Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,     

        That the rude sea grew civil at her song,

        And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,

        To hear the sea-maid’s music.

That’s what Puck remembers Oberon telling him. And that’s a really beautiful little passage, whether you remember it or not. Read it over again, preferably out loud, and maybe you’ll see what I mean. I hope you do.

That there water behind me and my buddy is a rude sea. In fact, it wasn't all that rude at the moment that this picture was taken, but on the way back across this same stretch of water a few days later, it was pretty darn rude. And quite unfortunately there was no mermaid around to utter with dulcet and harmonious breath and make that rude sea grow civil. I certainly wish there had been a singing mermaid.

 

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.