Today’s Totally Random Line(s)

 

 

From the besieged Ardea, all in post

Borne by the trustless wings of false desire,

Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host,

And to Collatium bears the lightless fire

Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire

    And girdle with embracing flames the waist

    Of Collantines fair love, Lucrece the chaste. 

 

-Narrator

Lucrece                                   First Stanza

 

Prepare yourself: a bit of a lecture today.

Okay, that’s the opening of the 1,855 line Lucrece, sometimes published as The Rape Of Lucrece. My book uses the former, and I prefer to use that title even though, as foretold quite clearly in that first stanza, this poem is going to center on the rape of Lucrece.

It’s a wonderfully written seven lines. Trustless wings of false desire and the lightless fire of lust. It also gives a very good idea to the reader of what the next 1,800 plus lines are going to be about.

This long poem can almost be compared to a short story written in verse, and it makes me wonder what kind of novelist Will would have been. There is much of the dialogue in his works that’s written in prose, and I guess, regarding my question, we can look at the introduction to Lucrece. This poem begins with The Argument which is a fairly long (historically accurate?) tale of the events upon which the poem is based. Spoiler alert: don’t read The Argument unless you want to know exactly what’s going to happen in the poem.

Regarding the art form of the long narrative, if I’m not mistaken, Miguel de Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote was a contemporary of Will, and he is, by some, credited with the first novel. Yeah, pretty much all long narratives previous to that (and there’s a lot, going all the way back to Gilgamesh) had been written in some verse or another. Cervantes went and wrote a whole story strictly in prose (and Spanish) and in the process pioneered what became to be known as the novel. Since he was doing it in Spain, I don’t know that Will was ever exposed to it. As it was, the golden age of drama that Will was a huge part of had started just in time for him. Had he been born fifty years earlier the medium that he worked in may not have been there for him, and we would be left with only the sonnets and a handful of long poems, Lucrece among them.

But he wasn’t (luckily) born early, and he didn’t (regrettably?) discover that art of the long narrative. And that’s that.

Again, at 1,855 lines it’s a long poem. But it’s worth the read. Of course it is; it’s written by Will, isn't it?

Today's (actually, every day's) lecturer - Professor Blagys

 

Today’s Totally Random Line(s)

 

 

Madam, be still, -- with reverence may I say;

For every word you speak in his behalf

Is slander to your royal dignity.

 

-Earl of Warwick

King Henry the Sixth Part II         Act III, Scene ii, Line 208

 

Well, it's Saturday morning, and this line would require a bit of reading. So let’s look at it with zero context and perhaps comment on the words we have here.

Hmmm. Madam be still. Sounds like he's saying shut up, but still trying to express some reverence for her. And trying to shift all of the problem on ‘his’, whoever ‘his’ is.

I think that’s all I've got this morning. You see, this Totally Random thing just doesn’t come out that great every time, does it?

And that’s okay.

This here is a hotdog in a... well I'm not sure what that is, but it's definitely not a hotdog roll. No worries: it was all okay in the end. 

 

 

 

 

Today’s Totally Random Line(s)

 

 

Yet sometimes ‘Tarquin’ was pronounced plain,

But through his teeth, as if the name he tore.

 

-Narrator

Lucrece                                          Line 1786

 

Lucrece has just killed herself after having been raped by Tarquin. Her father and husband, Collantine have come upon her and are both, understandably, quite upset. You need a few lines from the preceding stanza that come directly before this to give meaning to today’s line. Collantine has begun to speak...

 

                        But through his lips do throng

Weak words, so thick come in his poor heart’s aid,

That no man could distinguish what he said.

Yet sometimes ‘Tarquin’ was pronounced plain,

But through his teeth, as if the name he tore.

 

So Collantine is muttering something about Tarquin. All bad things I’m guessing, since Collantine knows that the guy raped his wife and was responsible for her suicide.

I think we can safely say that this poem qualifies as a tragedy.

I really couldn't think of any appropriate pic for today. I hope you understand.

 

 

La fin couronne les oeuvres.

Dies

 

-Clifford

King Henry the Sixth Part II         Act V, Scene ii, Line 28

 

So old Clifford gives us his last words, and then dies.

I wonder if I’ll lapse into French, or perhaps German, for my last words. And what will those words be? And for that matter, what the heck did Clifford say? I looked up those two words and they mean crown and works. The end of the crown’s works? I guess, maybe. But I think there’s gotta be a better translation. And I can pretty much assure you that those will not be my last words.

I think about the future a lot, but I don’t spend much time considering what my last words will be. The way I’ve seen people die in real life, they mostly drift off so that there really are no last words.

I think some of us might remember the last thing that someone said to us, even though they were not that person’s last words. The last thing I remember my dad saying to me was ‘I’m glad you’re here, Pete.’ So those are pretty good last words to remember. In fact, I can’t think of any better last words to remember someone by.

 

Here's a pic of my dad at the other end of his life. That's him standing with his mom and little sister around this time of year 91 years ago. 

Time is a bugger, isn't it.

 

That such a slave as this should wear a sword,

Who wears no honesty.

 

 -Kent

 King Lear               Act II, Scene ii, Line 116

 

So, where are we today? Kent’s about to be put in the stocks for being all pissed off. He just can’t stop ranting. Just looking at Oswald has got him all wound up. You can look at a couple of previous posts on this scene here, here, and here to give you a little more background, but the bottom line is that Kent just can’t shut himself up. He continues ranting against Cornwall and the others until they end putting him up in the stocks. 

Talk less. A line from the play Hamilton which might have served Kent well at this point. Talk less. 

I find that to be good advice for myself in many situations, and I try to follow it when I can; not always, but often. I can’t remember the last time I just went off uncontrollably… oh wait, actually I can remember. It was a few years ago with my next-door neighbor about the property line. He had just paid a surveyor to find out that he was wrong about the line, and our discussion quickly devolved into me yelling at him uncontrollably. Yup, I went full Kent on him. Luckily, I didn’t end up in the stocks. Luckily, I have Patrice, who saved me by intervening. Good thing too. Oooof. 

Yes - Talk less. And yell and swear less too. 

This, believe it or not, is a pic of the aforementioned property line. There's a little bit of pink ribbon (See it? It's in the middle of the picture.) attached to the stake that the surveyors placed here. So I knew exactly where the line was, and StickBoy did too. Oh boy, I'm getting riled up just thinking about this. Okay, never mind. Talk less; or just stop talking. 

Goooooosfraba.

 

Arm, gentlemen, to arms! For I have thrown

A brave defiance in King Henry’s teeth,

And Westmoreland, that was engag’d, did bear it,

Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.

  

-Douglas

 King Henry the Fourth Part I      Act V, Scene ii, Line 44

 

To arms! To arms. King Henry gave these guys (the rebels), including, Douglas the chance for a pardon, but they don’t believe him, so they’re just gonna fight it out.

He threw a brave defiance in King Henry’s teeth. That there is some pretty nice imagery, if you're into that sort of thing.

Anyway, no sense trying to talk it out when you can just fight. Right?(That's sarcasm, in case you missed it.)

I didn't have any pertinent pic for today, so I'm giving you this one which I thought was kind of nice.

This is the spout I wear on weekends to keep my hair out of my eyes. However, I just got a haircut this morning, so now it's not long enough to spout. 

No more spouts for a while. 

 

Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,

That I did suit me all points like a man?

A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,

A boar-spear in my hand; and- in my heart

Lie there what a hidden woman’s fear there will-

We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside;

As many other mannish cowards have

That do outface it with their semblances.

 

 

-Rosalind

 

As You Like It                                Act I, Scene iii, Line 119

 

Yup, that’s right, I gave you the whole paragraph instead of a line. But it’s pretty short, and pretty understandable. Rosalind’s just been banished from the court, so she and her cousin are talking about taking off on their own. Celia suggests that they give themselves a dirty appearance so as not to be taken advantage of since they will be two women traveling alone. Rosalind has a better idea:

Wouldn’t it be better, since I’m so tall, that I disguise myself as a man? An axe on my thigh and a spear in my hand, and, regardless of the woman’s fears in my heart, I’ll have a swaggering and valiant appearance; much like many cowardly men who have a manly look to them.

That’s my paraphrasing of today’s lines. It just seemed that whole little speech was better intact. Also, regardless of the fact that I paraphrased it for you, the original text is pretty understandable to me. What do you think?

I'm not sure if this qualifies as a curtle-axe (because I don't know what a curtle-axe is), but it's about the right size to wear upon my thigh. My favorite son-in-law found it for me in a little flea market store outside Nashville. The funny thing is that it's imprinted with the Boy Scout logo and the manufacturer, Bridgeport Howe Mfg Corp, Bridgeport, CT. Since I was a Boy Scout in Bridgeport, CT, Jeff rightly assumed that I would want it. 

Just the same, I probably won't be wearing it on my thigh anytime real soon. 

(postscript: I just looked up curtle-axe in my Shakespeare Glossary and apparently it's a cutlass, a sword. Since I don't have a cutlass, I'm sticking with my Bridgeport made, Jeff discovered, hatchet.)