Nay, Gloster, know that thou art come too soon,

Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art:

I do arrest thee of high treason here.

-Duke of Suffolk    

King Henry the Sixth Part II          Act III, Scene i, Line 95

 

Well there’s always someone getting arrested for treason in these history plays, isn’t there? Sometimes it’s real treason and sometimes it’s drummed up charges. These plays should be nicknamed Days of Treason. Or maybe Seasons of Treasons. Or perhaps, Seasons of Treasons, Sometimes with Reasons. What do you think?

And this would be a scene from Seasons of Teethin', because that's Jess's first tooth that's chomping on my finger.

 

Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,

The time shall not be many hours of age

More than it is, ere foul sin gathering head

Shall break into corruption: thou shalt think,

Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,

It is too little, helping him to all;

And he shall think, that thou, which know’st the way

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,

Being ne’er so little urged, another way

To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

The love of wicked friends converts to fear;

That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both

To worthy danger and deserved death.

 

-King Richard

King Richard The Second       Act V, Scene i, Line 65

 

Well, the reality is that today’s Totally Random line is To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. That is near the end of the passage I’ve given you, and a good line in its own right (in fact, a really good line in its own right), but I thought it best to give you the whole passage which is nearly one long sentence. This passage is Richard’s response to Northumberland after the latter tells him that Bolingbroke, the new Henry IV, has ordered that Richard is to be confined the Pomfret Castle and the Queen be banished to France.

I like that Richard calls Northumberland a ‘ladder.’ And, of course, the deposed king is right. Northumberland and Henry IV will end up fighting over the throne. But that will have to wait for King Henry the Fourth Part I; we won’t get to that in this play.

So for now, let’s just listen to the bottom line of Richard’s warning which can apply to any time or place.

The love of wicked friends converts to fear;

That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both

To worthy danger and deserved death.

 

So don’t be wicked, ok?

Well it's certainly been way too long since I've graced you with any of my own artwork (remember Mr. Sword?).  

So here is Northumberland, the ladder (not to be confused with the latter). What do you think?

 

To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

 

-Lady Grey    

King Henry the Sixth Part III         Act III, Scene ii, Line 39

 

Very interesting. Without getting into context, let me just apply the relevance of this line to my little world.

It seems that my associate, Jon, and his wife, Karen, welcomed two new heroes into the world yesterday. They are now parents of August and Otto. These two little fellows are their first children and my first grandsons.

Now, today’s line is Lady Grey’s answer to Henry’s question about her children, And would you not do much to do them good? It’s the obvious, usually unspoken, answer of a good mother. Or father. Or grandfather. To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

And so, it’s the perfect line for today. How random is that? 

 

And here's the happy dad (a pic from a few years back). 

Jon, you're going to be the best dad ever.

 

 

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visaged War hath smoothed his wrinkled frown;

And now-instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries

He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

-Richard

Richard The Third                         Act I, Scene i, Line 3

Okay, that’s a bit long, about a third of Richard’s soliloquy that opens this play. Now is the winter of our discontent is a fairly well known line. But to be honest, the reason I quoted thirteen lines here was because I really wanted to get to line twelve: He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber. That’s grim visaged War that we’re talking about. Yes, Mr. War is capering nimbly about a lady’s chamber to the music of a lute, perhaps dancing on the bed. I think that’s a funny image.

Will spends these first thirteen lines talking about the juxtaposition of the merriness of victory and peacetime versus the darkness of war that they’ve just gone through. In line fourteen he starts talking about how he’s not personally fit for capering about a lady’s chamber, and he talks about the mischief he’s going to be up to, but we’re not going to get into that. We’re just going to enjoy the image of War capering; think of Patton or Braveheart or one of those other hardcore military guys prancing about a woman’s bedchamber. Yeah, that’s a good image.

As you might expect, I couldn't find a picture of Patton or Braveheart prancing around on a woman's bed, so I got a pic of grass growing on the roof of a house instead. I thought, well this is a little bit odd, and not what one might expect to see, just like Patton dancing on a bed would be. Right?

 

 

Say to the king thy knowledge of the broil

As thou didst leave it.

 

-Malcolm

Macbeth                         Act I, Scene i, Line 18

 

This is Malcolm, the son of Duncan the king, talking to a bloodied sergeant and telling him to report on the battle he just left. The sergeant will go on to tell how brilliantly and bravely Macbeth has fought.

It’s very typical in Will’s plays to have someone on stage describe the battle that took, or is taking, place. It’s a lot easier than trying to stage a battle on a small sixteenth century stage. On the other hand, when you see modern, cinematic productions there’s a good chance that you’re going to actually see Macbeth unseam Macdonwald from the nave to th’ chops. That is to say, slice him open from the navel to the jaw. Oh, Hollywood movie makers would have a great time with that.

Here's one of the earlier covers of the US edition of The Return of the King. Think of all the battle scenes that Peter Jackson staged. On the other hand, Tolkien wasn't writing drama; so he didn't have to have his battle scenes told by one character to another. Tolkien just told us himself. A different deal altogether.  

 

I’fecks!

Why, that’s my bawcock. What, hast smutcht thy nose?-

They say it is a copy of mine. Come, captain,

We must be neat;-not neat, but cleanly, captain:

And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf,

Are all call’d neat.- Still virginalling

Upon his palm?- How now, you wanton calf!

Are thou my calf?

 

-Leontes

The Winter’s Tale            Act I, Scene ii, Line 133

 

To which Mamillius replies, Yes, if you will, my lord. Mamillius is the young son of Leontes.

Leontes was thinking all sorts of jealous and misplaced thoughts about his wife and his friend Polixenes, and then he suddenly turns to his son and begins with today’s lines. It appears that he’s trying to assuage the bad feelings he’s having about his wife and friend by concentrating on the good feelings he has about his son. So there’s quite a bit of interesting language here, and it certainly appears at first that this is hard to understand. Maybe, maybe not. So let’s take a look at it.

I’fecks? It just means In faith. So it’s really just a little exclamation to lead with. Not terribly meaningful.

Bawcock is fine fellow, and I believe that smutcht is just what it looks like, a little slang not very different from what we would use today to talk about some sort of messiness, in this case about his nose.

At first he talks about the need to be neater, but then decides that neat is a word used with cattle, so he goes with cleanly. And it’s a bit odd because in the end he goes back to calling his son a calf, a wanton calf.

Virginalling upon thy palm is tapping as though playing a virginal which is a small keyboard instrument.

Wanton, of course, is playful.

Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it? It makes perfect sense.

 

And here's a pic of me and my little bawcock. He's a wanton little bawcock, yes he is.