Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

                                                   But now return,

And with their faint reply, this answer join:

Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.

 

Sempronius

Timon of Athens           Act III, Scene iii, Line 26

This is the part in the play where Timon realizes that he’s running out of money and starts asking his friends for financial help. Sempronius is one of those friends, and he’s talking to Timon’s servant who’s been sent with the request for funds. As you can see, the answer is no. He’s using the excuse that Timon asked his other friends first, and they all said no. Sempronius is saying that he feels slighted that Timon didn’t ask him first, and therefore he is answering no, just like all the rest. It’s nonsense.

Timon’s servant ends this short scene, alone, with a soliloquy about the nature of man that is reflected in this situation. I’m tempted to put it here, but it’s sixteen lines long, and you probably wouldn’t read it. Oh, what the heck.

Excellent! Your lordship’s a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did when he made man politic (crafty and self-serving),- he crost himself by’t: and I cannot think but, in the end, the villainies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! Takes virtuous copies to be wicked; like those that, under hot ardent zeal, would set whole realms on fire:

Of such nature is his politic love.

This was my lord’s last hope; now all are fled,

Save the gods only: now his friends are dead,

Doors, that were ne’er acquainted with their wards

Many a bounteous year, must be emploly’d

Now to guard sure their master,

And this is all a liberal course allows;

Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.

                                                                    [Exit]

And that’s the end of the scene. Kind of interesting that this little speech begins in prose and ends in verse. What do you think of that?

I think you didn't finish everything on your dinner plate, Mr. Blagys. 

There's no sense wasting that; it would make a tasty little snack for me, that's what I think.  

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

This is the monstruosity in love, lady,- that the will is infinite and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.

 

Troilus

Troilus and Cressida             Act III, Scene ii, Line 81

 

Well, we could get into context if we wanted to, but the nature of the line allows us to just take it at face value, and I think that is what we’ll do.

It’s very well put; but of course it’s Shakespeare, isn’t it. Will is infinite. I wonder if Will thought of this use of the word will as a pun? I mean, given the nearly infinite magnificence of the works that he produced (assuming he realized how great his works were), I can see where he was making a pun between will (unlimited desire) and Will (himself). Just a thought.

The second iteration is just as good, if not better: desire is boundless and act a slave to limit. Act a slave to limit. That’s really some awesome word work there, Will, I love it.

And don’t tell me that you couldn’t find a place to use that line. No, not every day; but there are times when it would be perfect. I’m pretty sure that Patrice would say that about half the projects that Pete proposes.

Pete

Look, if we get rid of that wooden deck outside our bedroom, we could build one out of stone. That would last forever, and we could also build a stone fountain into the face of it!

Patrice

You know, buddy, desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.

Another perfect example: See that little guy on the right? He'd give anything to be let loose on that squirrel he's eyeing right now. And if we let him loose? What then?

His will is infinite but the execution confined;

the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.

Try telling him that.

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive

Lord Hastings will not yield to our complot?

 

Duke of Buckingham

King Richard the Third                Act III, Scene i, Line 191

The Duke of Buckingham is asking the Duke of Gloster (Richard). And the answer?

Chop off his head, man.

Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?

Complot, by the way is a plot or conspiracy, and it’s in the online Merriam Webster. Granted, it’s listed as archaic, but it’s there, nonetheless.

Any more questions?

Yes, have you seen my little bone treat? I think I left it up there when I was sitting with you. It might have dropped down the side there.

I meant any more questions about… oh, never mind. Let me take a look.

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Why, there they are both, baked in that pie;

Whereof thier mother daintily hath fed,

Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.

‘Tis true, ‘tis true; witness my knife’s sharp point.

 

Titus

Titus Andronicus                  Act V, Scene iii, Line 62

 

 

Yes, that’s right, Titus killed Tamora’s two adult sons and baked them in a pie. But don’t worry – Tamora doesn’t have to grieve over it very long, because the next line is Titus stabbing her to death. Then the line after that is Saturninus killing Titus, followed by Lucius killing Saturninus. Oh, and let’s not forget that before this all got started Titus kicked things off by killing his own daughter.

Thankfully though, that’s the end of the killing. The last page and a half of this play is speechifying and commiseration, as the survivors get set to pick up the pieces and carry on.

And there you have it: Titus Andronicus.

Yikes! 

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

I’ll follow, sir. But first, an’t please the gods,

I’ll hide my master from the flies as deep

As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when

With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha’ strew’d his grave,

And on it said a century of prayers,

Such as I can, twice o’er, I’ll weep and sigh;

And leaving so his service, follow you,

So please you entertain me.

 

Imogen

Cymbeline                             Act IV, Scene ii, Line 391

 

The ‘master’ that Imogen wants to bury and say prayers over is Cloten, but Imogen doesn’t know that. She thinks it’s her love, Posthumous, but she’s telling Caius Lucius that it’s someone named Richard du Champ.

Got that? It’s Cloten, she thinks it’s Posthumous, and she says it’s Richard du Champ.

 

Nothing confusing about that, eh Mojo?

I’m pretty sure he agrees with me.

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Neither.

                 What, neither?

        Neither.

  

Autolycus, 

                Dorcas, 

                            Autolycus

The Winter’s Tale                         Act IV, Scene iii, Line 306

 

Apparently the answer is ‘neither’, and Dorcas needed confirmation of that. Do we care what the question was? It’s something about going to the grange or the mill, and the answer is neither: neither the grange nor the mill.

Do we need to delve further to get a better understanding, or shall we discuss the meter used in a line made up of two different people talking?

How about Neither?

I don't remember asking you.

 

Today’s Totally Random Lines

 

Thou whoreson zed! Thou unnecessary letter!-  My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him.—‘Spare my gray beard,’ you wagtail?

 

Kent

King Lear                             Act II, Scene ii, Line 68

 

This is a continuation of the spat between Oswald and Kent. It began because of Oswald’s disrespect for Lear, which Kent would not suffer in the least. It led, a little earlier in this scene to the longest bit of name-calling I’ve ever seen. Here’s Kent’s answer to Oswald when the latter asked him, What dost thou know me for?

A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver’d, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.

Don’t hold back, Kent. Tell us how you really feel.

I don't understand half those words, Mr. Blagys, but it doesn't sound like Kent is holding back much.

 

I'm always forgetting that this little guy doesn't get sarcasm.

No, Mojo, he's not holding back much, and I don't understand half those words either.