Nay, this way, man: see where the huntsmen stand.

-King Edward

King Henry the Sixth Part III                 Act IV Scene v, Line 15

 

This is the part of English history (and this play) where the crown is bouncing from one head to the other, and even though we are referring to him here as King Edward, it's Henry the Sixth’s forces who have currently regained control of the kingdom. In this scene Edward is escaping from captivity. Apparently even in captivity he’s allowed to go out hunting (sort of like the prison for white collar prisoners today), and the huntsmen Edward’s pointing to are his brother and some others who have come to aid in his escape. They will be successful and the fellow who is guarding Edward goes along with them. Better do so than tarry and be hang’d, he says. That seems to be a pretty sensible attitude. 

Here are some Easter Peeps. Nothing to do with today's line; everything to do with the time of year. You'll notice that the two blue peeps on the left are vision impaired. We had another box of pink peeps that had no eyes at all. Where's the quality control, folks? Norm Stivers would never have let this workmanship (or lack thereof) get through.

 

Decius Brutus loves thee not:

 

-Artemidorus

Julius Caesar                          Act II Scene iii, Line 4

 

A sophist of Cnidos. That’s how Artemidorus is listed in the Dramatis Personae, the list of characters at the beginning of the play. What we’re doing with a teacher from ancient Greece in Caesar’s Rome is beyond me. Maybe he’s the guy who’s there to fix the clock.

Anyway, Artemidourus is the only person in this short scene. He is standing alone and reading aloud a note that he has penned to Julius Caesar warning him that he is in danger of being assassinated. He lists Brutus and all the fellows of the conspiracy. ‘Beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; come not near Casca, etc, etc.’ (I added the etc’s). I don’t know that Artemidorus is mentioned previously in the play, and I’m not sure how/why he knows about the conspiracy. He will show up one more time in the stabbing scene trying, and failing, to warn Caesar. The latter is too busy to listen to him.

And therein lies the lesson: Forget about the ides of March nonsense (although I guess he should have listened to that guy too), the lesson here is ignore others at your own peril.

Today's screen saver. Pretty cool shot, eh?

Relevance? None.

 

What wills Lord Talbot pleases Burgundy.

 

-Duke of Burgundy

King Henry the Sixth Part I       Act III Scene ii, Line 130

 

The line might seem a little hard to understand at first glance, but it’s really not. Whatever is the will of Lord Talbot will please Burgundy. The Duke of Burgundy is speaking to Talbot and referring to both Talbot and himself in the third person. Talbot has just told Burgundy that they’re going to take control of the town they are in, and once they’re done with that they will head to Paris because that’s where King Henry is. And Burgundy says, Okie dokie, what ever you say, Boss.

Got it?

This is our side yard. Yesterday I got home in a timely fashion so that I could help with some yardwork. But after about an hour of the boss riding around on the tractor pointing out to me every stick that needed to be picked up and every spot that needed to be raked, the Okie dokie, whatever you say, Boss turned into Rake the f@!&**! yard yourself, boss.

 

No more shall trenching war channel her fields,

Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoof

Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,

Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,

All of one nature, of one substance bred,

Did lately meet in the intestine shock

And furious close of civil butchery,

Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,

March all one way, and be no more opposed

Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:

 

-King Henry

King Henry the Fourth Part I    Act I Scene i, Line 12

Wrong.

Henry here, is talking about the fact that there’s going to be no more civil war. The ‘her’ he is referring to is, of course, England: no more Englishman fighting against Englishman. Henry will go on to talk about heading off to fight in the crusades in the Holy Land.

Again, wrong.

Basically, Henry is the one who started the Wars of the Roses, the civil butchery, by overthrowing his cousin Richard II, so I don’t know why he’s so simplistic to think that this internal strife will just end. These wars will continue for a few generations until Henry VII ends them by defeating Richard III (by the way, not the son of Richard II).

So this is how we start the play off.

Some fantastic wording here. Really, pretty much every line has something in it to enjoy. Trenching war channeling her fields, bruising her flowerets; meeting in the intestine shock. And now they’re going to march all one way in mutual, well-beseeming ranks.

You really need to find a way to spend a few minutes to enjoy this use of the English language. If you take just a little time to read these lines over slowly, and ponder the words and the imagery, you might, just might, start to get a little bit of an understanding of why Will is considered the best there ever was.

No pic today, just great words.

 

Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far

From thy report as thou from honour; and

Solicit’st here a lady that disdains

Thee and the devil alike.

 

-Imogen

Cymbeline                  Act I Scene vi, Line 145

Imogen is talking about her husband to Iachimo here, who I believe is a bit of a weasel. Iachimo is a weasel, not her husband.

Will’s works are just full of weasels, aren’t they? Just like the real world is full of them.

Well that's an awfully cute weasel on the right there, isn't it. Wait a tic, that's not a weasel at all; that's Patrice, and she's pretending to be an otter, not a weasel. Cutest looking otter I've ever seen.

 

An old hare hoar,

And an old hare hoar,

Is very good meat in Lent:

But a hare that is hoar

Is too much for a score,

When it hoars ere it be spent.—

 

-Mercutio

Romeo and Juliet               Act II Scene iii, Line 106

Holy Moly, what’s that all mean? Supposedly it’s a little ditty that Mercutio is singing. I’ll have to do a little digging on this one. Perhaps I’ll use the Google.

Okay, I checked with Asimov, Rowse, Garber, Bloom, Goddard, Harrison, and yes, the Google. None of them have anything to say about these six lines. What the heck do you think of that?

Nothin'. Not a darn thing.

 

 

‘Tis certain there’s not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha’ done this slaughter:

 

-Gower

King Henry the Fifth                 Act IV Scene vii, Line 5

Gower and his buddy Fluellen are talking about the fact that the French attacked an unprotected luggage caravan behind the British lines and killed a bunch of unarmed servants. On the flip side, King Henry has now ordered that all the French prisoners be executed.

Last night I watched the movie Dunkirk, and this morning, driving to work, I was thinking about the Ukraine situation. Regarding the latter, it occurs to me that similarities between what, and ostensibly why, Putin is doing and what Hitler did are clear as day. And I can’t help but ask myself why every single person in the whole world doesn’t see this. And then I realize that Agincourt took place in 1415, with eons of countless battles and wars before and centuries of battles and war since. And no one has ever learned a damn thing from all of it. Sometimes that surprises me, and sometimes it pisses me off. Usually in the end, though, I simply close my eyes and slowly, unconsciously fill my lungs up just as much as I can, and then let it out in a loonnngggg sigh. A fathoms deep sigh.

 

No pic today, just a poem. It’s from World War I. You know, the war to end all wars.

        Dulce et Decorum Est

    By Wilfred Owen

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through the sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

 

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets on just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

 

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

 

The latin phrase that ends the poem translates to It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.