All things we ordained festival

Turn from their office to black funeral:

Our instruments to melancholy bells;

Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast;

Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;

Our bridal flowers serve for a burial corse;

And all things change them to the contrary.

 

-Capulet

 

Romeo and Juliet            Act IV Scene v, Line 87

 

As I was saying, it’s good to spend some time reflecting on well wrought verse: sometimes concentrating on the form, sometimes the content, and sometimes just on where the lines take you in your personal reflections. I find that the latter is almost always where I end up.

        For the gift of the art, whether live, drawn, or written,

Is not how it looks in the book where it’s sittin’,

It’s whether or not it gets up off the page,

Or the screen, or the easel, or down from the stage,

And reaches right up, and jumps into your life,

And affects how you look at your friend, dad, or wife.

That’s a couple of lines that are not Will’s. Believe it or not, I do read stuff besides Shakespeare (but don’t ask my wife; she doesn’t believe that to be true).

See? Not a Shakespeare on the shelf! I am just so diversified!

 

Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?

-Henry

King Henry the Fifth              Act I Scene ii, Line 1

 

This is the opening line of the scene, and also the early part of the play. Henry is looking for Canterbury to ask him if he, Henry, has a just claim to the throne of France. Canterbury will give him a very long-winded, sixty-three line answer. He could have just said ‘yes’. Another classic example of Long Story Short-Tony (see yesterday’s post).

Since we're talking about Long Story Short-Tony for two days in a row, I'll give you a pic of my socks for two days in a row. No need to thank me.

 

My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou remember’st

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.

 

-Oberon

 

A Midsummer Night’s Dream         Act II Scene i, Line 149

 

This is part of a larger thought that Oberon is having about how he wants Puck to fetch him a certain flower so that he can cast a love spell on Titania. In fact, these seven lines are a bit ‘long story, short-Tony’ in that they are really superfluous to what Oberon is talking about. However, unlike Tony’s rambling of unneeded detail, I rarely find Will’s extra detail to be rambling or unneeded. I think the language, and the picture that he paints with these seven lines is well worth the time spent reading/hearing them. 

How about you?

Do you like these socks? Well, I think I've brought up long story, short-Tony before, but here goes again. Tony would tell stories about something that he experienced, and he'd sprinkle in the most mind-numbing level of detail that had nothing to do with the story; like these socks. His story could be about a speeding ticket he'd received, and he would add in a very detailed description of the socks he was wearing at the time. It would make his story really long, and all the while he'd be repeating the phrase 'long story short'. Of course, I'd be saying to myself 'There's nothing short about this story, Tony!'

Come to think of it, long story short, maybe I spend too much time talking about Tony?

 

 

Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand

Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight?

 

-Titus

Titus Andronicus                     Act III Scene i, Line 67

 

But of course, Lavinia cannot speak, because the same hand that made her handless also cut out her tongue. This is the first that Titus has seen of his daughter since this happened and I don’t think he yet realizes that she can’t speak. Marcus, Titus’s brother, has found Lavinia and brought her to Titus. Lucius, Titus’s son, sees Lavinia and says, ‘Ay me, this object kills me!’ Titus responds with a pretty moving sixteen lines. I think they’re worth reading, so here goes.

       

        Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her.—

        Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand

        Hath made thee handless in thy father’s sight?

        What fool hath added water to the sea,

        Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?

        My grief was at the height before though camest;

        And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds.—

        Give me a sword, I’ll chop off my hands too;

        For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain;

        And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life;

        In bootless prayer have they been held up,

        And they have served me to effectless use:

        Now all the service I require of them

        Is, that the one will help to cut the other.—

        'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands;

        For hands, to do Rome service, is but vain.

 

I’m not suggesting that today’s lines need to be taken to heart, or that there’s some indomitable lesson to be learned from them. But it seems to me that it’s almost always useful to stop and spend a few minutes contemplating on some well written words. The very act of stopping, leaving the world to take care of itself for a few minutes, and concentrating on the words, taking the time to understand the words, and then thinking about that meaning, can be a very worthwhile and beneficial endeavor. 

And of course, no words are more well written than Will’s.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words. I would say that in some cases a picture can be worth a thousand words, and that in some cases a few words can be worth a thousand pictures. 

The picture above was an easy and effective way of remembering which wire went where; much easier than writing out, 'the green wire goes to C, and the white wire goes to W/E, etc.' 

However, I don't think there's one single picture that can convey all of what Will is giving us with the 132 words written above.

What do you think? 

 

 

                    The chimney

Is south the chamber; and the chimneypiece

Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures

So lively to report themselves: the cutter

Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,

Motion and breath left out.

 

-Iachimo

Cymbeline                      Act II Scene iv, Line 82

Iachimo is speaking to Posthumus, and to prove that he has slept with the latter’s wife, he is describing her bedroom. 

The chimneypiece he mentions is a statuette on the mantel. It is a figure of Dian bathing, and it was so lifelike is seemed almost that it could talk, report themselves. The sculptor was one of a kind, and the statue outdid even the beauty of Dian, except that it could neither move nor speak. 

Okay, here’s the thing. I could read that paragraph and understand, at least for the most part, what it was saying. Yeah, I looked at some footnotes to help me out a bit. And I knew the context of what was going on with the conversation. Maybe you could get the gist of this too?

I decided to find out if your average, intelligent person who doesn't read much Shakespeare would get much out of this passage. So I asked my two very intelligent associates (not the guy in back; that's King and he wasn't in town for this test) to read it. Well, unfortunately they didn't get too much out of it. I guess that sort of proves that you need to acquire a taste and a bit of a knowledge base in his style of writing to be able to truly enjoy Will's works. 

I think we'll get back to this topic again.

 

        So I leave you

To the protection of the prosperous gods,

As thieves to keepers.

 

-Timon

Timon of Athens                     Act V Scene i, Line 182

Well, Timon doesn’t have any daughters that we know of, but in his own way, he is cursing the world much like Lear was. Unlike Lear, who briefly finds a bit of redemption with Cordelia before dying in the end, Timon gets no redemption. This conversation with the senators, who have come looking for his help, will be his last.

I think it’s interesting that the bitter Timon is telling the senators to go pound sand. Earlier in the play, when Flavius told Timon that the senators had refused to loan Timon any money, Timon had this to say about them.

                                        These old fellows

        Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:

        Their blood is caked, ‘tis cold, it seldom flows;

        ‘Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind;

        And nature, as it grows again toward earth,

        Is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.

To be fair, I’m not completely sure what all that means. But I know that though it may not be particularly complimentary, it is at least a little bit understanding and accepting of what the senators are all about. At that point Timon was still inclined to feel good about humanity. Here, very near the end of the play, he’s letting them know loud and clear that he wants nothing to do with them or humanity in general.

Tragedy.

A giant cinnamon bun picture at IKEA. 

Zoom in on the fine print under the yellow $1 square.

Comedy.

 

Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air

Hang fated o'er men’s faults light on thy daughters!

 

-Lear

King Lear                     Act III Scene iv, Line 67

Lear is transposing the ill feelings he has for his own daughters, and the troubles they have caused him, onto Edgar. The latter has just shown up, and Lear assumes that a man so wretched must have been driven to that state by miserable daughters.

         Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature

        To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.—

Never mind that Edgar doesn’t have any daughters.

So, how about pendulous air? He's calling forth all the plagues, but it’s not enough to just say plagues. They are the plagues that in the pendulous air hang fated o’er men’s faults. I tell you, there’s a reason this guy is considered the greatest writer in the English language, and this is one small example of it. I’m sorry if you can’t see what I see in these lines. I wish you could.