For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,

Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;

And rail upon the hostess of the house;

-First Servant

The Taming of the Shrew      Ind., Scene ii, Line 86

This is the second act of the Induction, which is sort of a different word for introduction. It is a two-scene story which precedes the play. Whilst it is thematically linked to the play, the induction has nothing to do with the action of the play itself. So that’s a little odd. But who am I to question Will?

I’m not going to give you the full story of the induction. It’s about three pages long and I’ll give you the link so that you can read it if you’d like. Long story, very short, it’s about transforming someone, in this case a n’er do well drunk, into a cultured gentleman.

And this of course is basically the theme of the play, transformation. In the case of the Induction, it’s the transformation of a man via trickery.  In the case of the play, it’s a forced transformation of a woman: a taming. Or is it? Hmmm, something to think about.

The Taming of the Shrew - Induction (shakespeare-online.com)

Okay, first off, here's the link to the Induction, so that you can read it.

And second off, if you read the Induction, you will understand the relevance of this pic. And by the way, I should tell you that the fine print on the label informs us that, though this ale was not brewed in England, it has its origin in Burton-upon-Trent in England around 1820. So, it's even more relevant. 

 

Patience awhile, good Cassio.—Come, come;

-Iago

Othello                                   Act V, Scene i, Line 87

Sweet Phebe, good Cassio. Same sentiment? No, not really. Yesterday was Silvius pleading with Phebe who he really does think is sweet, and today’s speaker is Iago, and nothing ever good comes from Iago. As well, nothing very truthful ever comes out of Iago’s mouth. This we know.

To be clear, Cassio is lying there bleeding to death from a wound inflicted in the dark from behind by, you guessed it, Iago. And now the ratfink Iago is pretending to care and telling Cassio to be patient. Yes, that’s what’s happening. Oyy. Good old, honest Iago. Have you ever known anyone quite so dishonest and just downright bad as Iago? To tell you the truth, I can think of a few in my recollections who come close. No names.

And no pics either.

 

 

 Sweet Phebe,--

-Silvius

As You Like It                Act III, Scene v, Line 81

That’s it: Sweet Phebe. Well that’s a pretty short line. And I’m not even going to make you read any of the before or after lines; just Sweet Phebe.

Silvius is sort of pleading with Phebe because he’s in love with her, and she’s giving him a hard time with that. There, that’s your context.

I got nothing else on this today. Wait, I take that back: I do have one thing. It’s sweet. This is a funny word in that it can go both ways. In today’s line Silvius is using it in a positive sense, calling Phebe sweet. But I often find myself using that word in a fairly negative sense when somethings’ not going my way: Sweet mother of…..!

I should probably work on using it more the way Silvius is using it.

Now here's a perfect example of what I'm talking about. When she got accidentally kicked down the stairs and had her leg broken, you can bet she wasn't saying 'Oh sweet Karen.' It had to be something more along the lines of 'Sweet mother of...!'

 

Come unto these yellow sands,

-Ariel

The Tempest                  Act I, Scene ii, Line 375

This is the first line of the song that Ariel is singing as he leads Ferdinand in. It’s only a few lines, so I thought it would be worth our while to have the whole thing. Here you go (with a little of the preceding stage direction):

 

Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing.

FERDINAND following.

ARIEL’S song.

        Come unto these yellow sands,

                And then take hands:

        Court’sied when you have and kist,--

                The wild waves whist,--

        Foot it featly here and there;

        And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

                Hark, hark!

                        [Burden, dispersedly, within. Bow, wow.]

                The watch-dogs bark:

                        [Burden, dispersedly, within. Bow, wow.]

                Hark, hark! I hear

                The strain of strutting chanticleer.

                        [Cry: Cock-a-diddle-dow.]

 

FERDINAND

Where should this music be: i’the air or the earth?

        It sounds no more:--and sure, it waits upon

        Some god o’ the island. Sitting on a bank,

        Weeping again the king my father’s wrack,

        This music crept by me upon the waters,

        Allaying both their fury and my passion

        With its sweet air: Thence I have follow’d it,

        Or it hath drawn me rather:--but ‘tis gone.

        No, it begins again.

 

ARIEL sings,

        Full fadom five thy father lies;

                Of his bones are coral made;

        Those are pearls that were his eyes;

                Nothing of him that doth fade

        But doth suffer a sea-change 

        Into something rich and strange.

        Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:

                [Burden within. Ding-dong]

        Hark! Now I hear them, -Ding-dong, bell.

Okay, I snuck a little extra in there. I wanted to give you the whole song and it’s interrupted in the middle by Ferdinand talking to himself for nine lines. I figured nine more lines wouldn’t kill you.

By the way, sea change, in the fifth line of the second part of the song, is a word (or phrase) used nowadays. It’s defined by Merriam Webster- a marked change: TRANSFORMATION. Merriam Webster, by the way, makes note of the fact that Shakespeare originated this usage in the passage that you just read. So next time someone uses the term sea change you can tell them they’re speaking Shakespeare’s language.

Now this is kind of interesting. I ran into this Sea Change Foundation (and I snipped a copy of their logo to paste here) whilst surfing about.  It's a philanthropic foundation that lends their support to a number of different endeavors. Currently they seem to be working mostly on the issue of Climate Change. Now get this; they have a staff of advisors called the Tempest Advisors Staff. Are we to assume that they know that the name of their foundation originates in Shakespeare's Tempest? It would certainly seem so.

 

But I, -- who never knew how to entreat,

Nor never needed that I should entreat, --

Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;

-Katharina

The Taming of the Shrew      Act IV, Scene iii, Line 7

It’s great when we pick a line early in the scene because then the context is usually pretty easy to pick up (assuming you have some familiarity with the play) by reading from the beginning of the scene. Here, I’ll give it to you from line one:

Grumio.

        No, no, forsooth; I dare not, for my life.

Katherina.

        The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:

        What, did he marry me to famish me?

        Beggars that come unto my father’s door,

        Upon entreaty have a present alms;

        If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:

            But I, -- who never knew how to entreat,

Nor never needed that I should entreat, --

Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;

With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:

And that which spites me more than all these wants,

He does it under the name of perfect love;

 

So, what’s going on here? Well, just as in the Merchant line from last week, the first line from this play is the middle of the conversation. It’s clear from what’s being said that Kathrina has been begging Grumio to give her some food before the scene begins, but he doesn’t want to go against his master’s (Kathrina’s husband’s) orders. As far as why not? Well, do you have any familiarity with this play? If you do, you would know that Katharina’s husband Petruchio is taming her. Yes, that’s right, taming her. After all, there’s a reason why this play is called The Taming of the Shrew.

Oh boy. Before you have me cancelled for subjecting you to this senseless bit of jingoism, can we talk about this? No? Okay, cancel away.

 

How would he look, to see his work, so noble,

Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how

Should I, in these my borrow’d flaunts, behold

The sternness of his presence?

-Perdita

The Winter’s Tale  Act IV, Scene iii, Line 23

Perdita is speaking to Florizel, the prince. These two have got a little  something going, and Perdita is telling him that the differences in their statuses is going to be a problem. The he and his in this passage is referring to Florizel’s father, the king. His work is a reference to the king’s son, Florizel, and finally, flaunts is fine clothing. There, given all that, meaning of the lines should be pretty clear.

I think the first sentence is pretty interesting when she refers to herself as vilely bounding up Florizel. It doesn't seem to express a very high opinion of herself, does it?

Comments?

Well, here's a pic that's got little to nothing to do with today's line, but a lot to do with today's date. It's Feb 14 today, and this is my valentine posing with her picture that won Honourable Mention in the art show. It's the picture on top and it's called Night Leaves. Pretty good, eh?

 

Three thousand ducats, - well.  

-Shylock

The Merchant of Venice        Act I, Scene iii, Line 1

And so it begins. This is our first glimpse of, and the first lines spoken by, Shylock. It's also the first line of the scene, and it's spoken by the infamous Shylock.

What an absolutely mesmerizing character he is. Polarizing? Maybe. Dull? Never. When most people think of this play, they think of Shylock and the pound of flesh. Of course, there’s a lot more than that to the play, and there's a lot more than that to Shylock. But it’s here in the third scene that the pound of flesh first comes up.

The scene begins in the middle of a conversation. Obviously Bassanio has already been talking to Shylock and he’s asked for the loan, but we open the scene not with Bassanio’s request, but rather with Shylock’s consideration of the request - Three thousand ducats, - well.

You can almost see Shylock stroking his chin as he says the line slowly. Three thousand ducats, - well.

No, that's not Shylock. It's me. And I'm not thinking about loaning three thousand ducats; I'm thinking about why people stroke their chin when they're thinking about something. I'll need to think about this a little more.