Today’s Totally Random Line(s)

 

By this she hears the hounds are at bay,

Whereat she starts like one that spies an adder

Wreath’d up in fatal folds just in his way,

The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder;

Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds

Appalls her senses, and her spirit confounds.  

 

-Narrator

Venus And Adonis                 Line 877

 

Here’s an interesting little fact: the first line of this stanza, as noted, is line 877 in this poem. The very first Totally Random Daily Line posted, on August 11, 2016, was line 889 (that’s two stanzas down), The dismal cry rings sadly in her ear. Rather than repeat the paragraph of explanation on this poem, I will refer you to that previous post, and take the rest of the day off.

Snowmen in a Sauna. Well, they look happy so far...

 Today’s Totally Random Line(s)

 

Mad world! Mad kings! Mad composition!

John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,

Hath willingly departed with a part;

And France - whose armour conscience buckled on, 

Whom zeal and charity brought to the field

As God’s own soldier, - rounded in the ear 

With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, 

That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,

That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,

Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,

Who having no external thing to lose

But the word “maid”, cheats the poor maid of that,

That smooth-fac’d gentleman, tickling commodity,

Commodity, the bias of the world -

 

-Bastard

King John                       Act II, Scene i, Line 567

 

And then he goes on (and on) about Commodity. Let me give you a few things up front:

A composition in this case (Mad Composition!) is an agreement, truce or settlement.

Rounded (rounded in the ear) is whispered.

And finally, That broker, that daily break-vow, that smooth-fac’d gentleman are all references to commodity, and commodity in this reference pretty much means self-interest.

Here’s my Shakespeare App’s summary of what Bastard is talking about here -

The Bastard expostulates on how quickly self-interest makes people forget their oaths, and he decides that he might as well do the same himself.

There, that’s your head start.

 So, Today’s Totally Random Lines are fourteen lines of a thirty-eight line scene-ending soliloquy by Bastard (You gotta love that the guy’s name throughout the play is simply Bastard). The random line picked is in the middle of the fourteen lines, and I couldn’t find any kind of a complete thought without keeping these lines intact. Even with this, the thought is not completely done. Bastard goes on about how commodity, or self-interest runs the world and he’s going to let it run him.

King John is that odd, sort of out of place, history play about the twelfth century king who was halfway between William the Conqueror and Edward III, the progenitor of the War of the Roses. All the other history plays are contiguous, from Richard II to Richard III (oh sure, there’s Henry VIII, but that’s almost contemporary), but this one is a loner. And it’s a little bit odd. Will supposedly wrote it in the middle of his history play writing period. It’s almost as if he needed a break from the War of the Roses saga that he was writing with the other eight history plays.  

Anyway, what to say about this line, this soliloquy, this scene, this play, this mad world? I'm not sure I've anything of substance to add. I think perhaps I’ve said enough. 

Okay, two justifications for this pic: Today's lines begin and end 'with world' - from Mad world to bias of the world. This pic is from near the end of the world, Ushuaia, Argentina and it's got a prison convict escaping down the side of the building, which is a little bit crazy, or mad. And the second justification - Argentina. Since they won the world cup two days ago, and since this one of the very few pics I have taken in/of Argentina...well, there you go. 

 

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.