Hail heaven!

-Guiderius

Cymbeline                                  Act III, Scene iii, Line 9

I’m not certain whether Guiderius is making a reference to the religious heaven, or a reference to the skies above, that is to say, nature. I guess, based on the context, it’s the latter, but it could also be one of Will’s double entendres.

Okay, looks like I’ve been misusing double entendre. According to MW online it means a word or expression capable of two interpretations with one usually risqué. I wasn’t aware of that second, risqué part. I guess I’ll have to revisit my use of that phrase? Or can I just go with the fact that the second meaning is usually risqué, but not always risqué? Yeah, let’s just do that.

The heavens.

 

Do we all holy rites:

Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum.

The dead with charity enclosed in clay,

We’ll then to Calais; and to England then;

Where ne’er from France arrived more happy men.                                           [Exeunt]

-Henry

King Henry the Fifth             Act IV, Scene viii, Line 123

Non nobis and Te Deum are hymns of thanksgiving and glory to God. This is the scene after the Battle of Agincourt and they’ve just listed off how great the French casualties were and how few the English were. This then is the end of the Act IV.

I suppose that Non nobis and Te Deum are not all that well known in today’s world. Though perhaps there’s an anglicized version of one of them that we might recognize? I don't really know.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

Praise him all creatures here below.

Praise him above ye heav’nly host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

There, that’s a hymn of praise I remember from my youthful church-going days. I can remember singing it umpteen thousand times. As far as I know, it’s not Non nobis or Te Deum; but who knows?

Doxology: Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow (with lyrics) - Bing video

 Here you go. The link above is to a really nice video of the hymn. The first four lines are exactly as I remember them. There was a second verse that we sang in church, not the way it's being sung here. But it's a really nice, and peaceful video. Maybe save it and watch it next time you're feeling bad about something. 

 

 

I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner:

I from my mistress come to you in post;

If I return, I shall be post indeed,

For she will score your fault upon my pate.

Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock,

And strike you home without a messenger.

-Dromio of Ephesus

The Comedy of Errors           Act I, Scene II, Line 62

First things first. In case you hadn’t figured it out simply by context, maw is belly or throat; in this case more like belly. In modern parlance it’s mouth/throat, but not that far off from the sixteenth century meaning. I could get into a lengthy discussion of reading and understanding Shakespeare, but I think I’ll save that for another day. I believe I can hear that collective sigh of relief.

The part I really like about this passage is Dromio’s comment about one’s stomach being the meal clock. I know mine is, and everyone who knows me well knows that mine is. My daughters have told me that when they travel with me they make sure to carry a granola bar or something like that just in case I start to Hulk out on them. I guess my stomach clock doesn’t strike me home, it’s just rigged to an explosive device that’s ready to go off on the spot.

 

Here I am with the girls visiting San Francisco a few years ago (I'm the one taking the picture). So, which one has the granola bar? I'm guessing Jess. She could have a three course meal in the pockets of that jacket she's holding. 

 

 

 

Illo, ho, ho, my lord!

-Horatio

Hamlet                                    Act I, Scene v, Line 114

Illo, ho, ho is the falconer’s cry to recall the hawk. In this case, Horatio is the falconer and Hamlet is the hawk. What do you think of that?

Believe it or not, just as soon as I finished writing this short blog, I went upstairs and looked out the window and what did I see but a hawk perched atop the pine tree. I know, you can hardly see him, but he's there. This is on full pic-taking magnification on my iPhone. If you take a look at the next pic....

....this is the same pic without magnification. The two trees are the smaller ones in the middle of this picture. You can see that the hawk is pretty far away. I guess I could've opened the window and yelled Illo, ho, ho, but it just didn't seem like a very viable option. Anyway, the back yard looks good, doesn't it?

 

A whoreson dog, that shall palter with us!

Would he were a Trojan!

-Ajax

Troilus and Cressida      Act II, Scene iii, Line 231

For clarity’s sake, palter means to quibble or deal evasively with. For further clarity, Ajax is talking about Achilles, and the whole group of Greeks present is discussing the fact that Achilles has decided not to do any more fighting in the battle against the Trojans. Do we think that Ajax would be saying these things to Achilles’s face? Good question. I’m afraid I don’t know Ajax well enough to answer that. He does seem to be pretty willing to speak his mind in Achilles’s absence though, doesn’t he? And that, in and of itself, can be rather telling.

BTW, the meaning of whoreson is a little different if you look it up in a modern dictionary versus a Shakespearean glossary, but neither is particularly complimentary. I think you can figure out on you own the general meaning. It's a pretty good expression to use about someone that you really feel is a very rotten person, but it's not a very nice thing to say. And my mom always told me, if you have nothing nice to say, better to say nothing at all. So, yeah, you're bound to run into a whoreson dog or two, but better to take the high road and say nothing at all.    

And here you go, a pic of nothing at all. Remember a few days ago I said that I was going to put the emphasis on posting everyday, even it meant posting with no pic? Well, here you go. I couldn't think of any pic to go with a whoreson dog, so that's what I'm posting: no pic. Rather than saying nothing at all, I'm posting a pic of nothing at all.

 Bardolf, look to our horses.

-Sir John Falstaff

King Henry the Fourth Part II      Act V, Scene i, Line 9

Well this is a pretty darn simple line, and one that should need little explanation as to what it means. In fact, I won’t insult you by even pretending to offer an explanation. Are we good?

Here you go: a pretty darn simple picture that should need no explanation. You can see who it is, and you can tell where we are. Are we good?

 

 

I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.

-Beatrice

Much Ado About Nothing             Act II, Scene iii, Line 251

The main experience I have with this play, other than through picking lines occasionally for this blog, is watching Helen Hunt talk about it on a television program. I forget the name of the show but it’s one of the cable networks and the show did one-hour episodes where they’d get into the nuts a bolts of one play for an hour, and they had a different famous actor do each hour show. Helen did this play, and she talked about playing Beatrice. I don’t remember much, other than that she was very keen on the role.

I suppose that’s not much help with today’s line though, is it? But just to give you some sense of what it means: Benedick is alone onstage, and Beatrice enters to say that, against her will, she’s been bid to come and invite him for dinner. I don’t know who sent her, but Benedick replies Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. Today’s Totally Random line is Beatrice’s response to Benedick.

I can tell you that these two spar throughout the play, but that they end up together in the end. 

I think I should probably see this play, or at least read and listen to it. What do you think?

If you look real close you can see my Harry Potter scar, except mine is a Y, not a lightning bolt. It's a faint, white Y almost directly above the eye, halfway between the eyebrow and the hairline. Trust me; it's there. Anyway, I took some pains in getting that scar. It involved falling and cracking my noggin on the corner of the low cabinet that the tv sits on. Yes, there was definitely pain involved.