Look, here’s thy love, my foot and her face see.

-Longaville

Love’s Labour’s Lost             Act IV, Scene iii, Line 277

 

Well, this is a bit of a tough line this morning, kids. But if we spend a few minutes on it, perhaps we can get a little something out of it.

For starters, I have to confess that I’m just not sure what Longaville is saying. I’ll give you all some context, and then maybe we can come up with something.

The four main guys here, the king, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longaville, have just found out that they are all pursuing love interests when they all had taken a vow of celibacy. Right now they are picking on Longaville, and what’s interesting is that Longaville’s love interest is apparently a black woman. They are picking on him because he’s gone against his vow, but they’re also picking on the fact that his lady is black. I had no idea this scene existed in Shakespeare, but it does.

The other three have been taunting Longaville’s choice of a black woman (I’ll let you read the text yourself here) when he replies with today’s line. I guess it’s some sort of insult of the other guys’ ladies, but what is he saying? Is it that their faces look like his foot? That’s what it appears to be, but that’s pretty odd.

So if I said, "Ah, your girl's face looks like my foot!" I suppose that would be an insult? 

I dunno, it's not a bad looking foot.

 

They vented their complaining; which being answer’d,

And a petition granted them, a strange one—

To break the heart of generosity,

And make bold power look pale—they threw their caps

As they would hang them on the horns o’the moon,

Shouting their emulation.

-Caius Marcius

Coriolanus                      Act I, Scene i, Line 208

 

This is Caius Marcius Coriolanus talking about the rabble, the mob. It’s the first scene of the play, and Will wastes no time in letting us know just how little Coriolanus thinks of the common folk.

This play raises lots of great questions about the structure of society and its leadership. Many, if not all, of these questions are incredibly relevant to twenty-first century life in America.

Again, why aren’t we using this play to teach Shakespeare? I dunno. 

A lot of the time when I mention politics I have posted a picture of an orange. But it's a new day (almost a new year), so I'm posting a picture of an apple. 

 

How now Tubal! What news from Genoa? Hast thou found my daughter?

-Shylock

The Merchant of Venice        Act III, Scene i, Line 75

 

Here is Shylock looking for news of his daughter Jessica. I guess we can never know just how relevant these random lines can be. Can we?

Or perhaps just how non-relevant these pictures can be. 

That there is a pencil sharpener. 

I suppose that if I sit here and think about it long enough I might find some relevance in this pencil sharpener. But right now I have to go get ready for work. So I'll leave it up to you to find the relevance. I have confidence that you can do it.

 I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror

Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error,

Now take upon  me, in the name of Time,

To use my wings. Impute it not a crime

To me or my swift passage, that I slide

O’er sixteen years and leave the growth untried

Of that wide gap, since it is in my power

To o’erthrow law and in one self-born hour

To plant and o’erwhelm custom. Let me pass

The same I am, ere ancient’st order was

Or what is now received: I witness to

The times that brought them in; so shall I do

To the freshest things now reigning and make stale

The glistering of this present, as my tale

Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,

I turn my glass and give my scene such growing

As you had slept between: Leontes leaving,

The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving

The he shuts up himself, imagine me,

Gentle spectators, that I now may be

In fair Bohemia, and remember well,

I mentioned a son o’ the king’s, which Florizel

I now name to you; and with speed so pace

To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace

Equal with wondering: what of her ensues

I list not prophecy; but let Time’s news

Be known when ‘tis brought forth.

A shepherd’s daughter,

And what to her adheres, which follows after,

Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,

If ever you have spent time worse ere now;

If never, yet that Time himself doth say

He wishes earnestly you never may.

-Time, the Chorus

The Winter’s Tale                  Act IV, Prologue, Line 19

 

There, that’s the whole prologue to Act IV. Somehow it seemed shorter before I started typing it. The short version? Time is here to tell us that sixteen years have passed. Leontes has spent the time alone and grieving. His daughter (presumed dead by him) has grown up in Bohemia with a shepherd foster father. And finally, Florizel, the son of Polixenes, has also grown up.

So, the person speaking this prologue is Time. I like that. It automatically made me think of Jackson Browne’s song Time the Conqueror. So here, since you did such a good job reading the entire prologue, I’ll give you Jackson’s song. Then you can write a short essay on what you found to be the same or different between what the prologue has to say and what Jackson’s song says.

Time the Conqueror

 

And I shall lose my life for want of language:

-Parolles

All’s Well That Ends Well     Act IV, Scene i, Line 68

 

To hear Parolles talk in this scene, one would think that he was modeled a bit in the shape of Falstaff. In any event, the setting is a military action and the men who have just captured Parolles, though unknown to him, are of his own regiment. They are pretending to be of a different country and they are speaking gibberish so as to trick Parolles into telling him what they want.

Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

Villianda par corbo, cargo.

Boskos thromuldo boskos.

 Parolles responds,

I know that you are Musko’s regiment;

And I shall lose my life for want of language:

If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,

Italina, or French, let him speak to me; I’ll

Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.

 

I’m not sure if Musko has something to do with Russian and Moscow or not, But it sure sounds like it.

Have you ever felt like you would lose your life for want of language? I’m not sure about losing my life, but I know that there have been times when I wisht I had a better command of language; usually English, but occasionally another language. 

Here's someone who had a superior knowledge of languages. This young lady was working in the Norwegian Folk Museum that we visited. The tourists there were very multi-national and in the short time that we were there several different groups showed up. She greeted and conversed with each group, including us, in their native tongue. And she gave us a cup of coffee. Very, very impressive. 

 

Ay, to a niggardly host and more sparing guest:

But though my cates be mean, take them in good part:

Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.

But, soft! My door is lockt.—Go bid them let us in.

-Antipholus of Ephesus

The Comedy of Errors   Act III, Scene i, Line 28

 

This is Antipholus’s reply to Balthazar who’s said, Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. They are standing outside the former’s house and chatting about going inside where Balthazar will be properly welcomed. No sooner does Antipholus say this, however, then he finds out that the door is locked. Next, he’s going to find out that he will be refused entrance.

All part of life’s rich pageant.

Here's a house whose door was not lockt to us. To be fair, we paid to get in. One wonder's though, if the original owners, a wealthy Pittsburgh family, were good hosts here offering good cheer with better heart. Or maybe they just stayed home alone and enjoyed the house to themselves? Either way, it's a pretty interesting house, and I certainly wouldn't mind spending some time living there. Assuming, of course, it would be without the constant stream of tourists. I don't think I'd want to live there with a bunch of strangers trooping through all day. Can you imagine?

 

The property by what it is should go,

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;

-King

All’s Well That Ends Well     Act II, Scene iii, Line 133

 

Believe it or not, the speech here by the king has many similarities to yesterday’s speech by Shylock. In particular, the king is making the point to Bertram that he should not judge Helen by her social status, in the same way that Shylock was telling Salarino that he should not be judged by his Jewishness. Pretty interesting, eh?

For context, Helena has just cured the king and has now been promised anything she wishes. She wishes to marry Bertram. However, Bertram is a Count, and Helena is a commoner. Bertram objects on this basis, and the king replies

        ‘Tis only title thou disdain’st in her, the which

I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods,

Of colour, weight, and heat, pour’d all together,

Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off

In differences so mighty. If she be

All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest,

A poor physician’s daughter, thou dislikest

Of virtue for the name: but do not so:

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,

The place is dignified by the doers deed:

Where great additions swell’s, and virtue none,

It is a dropsied honour. Good alone

Is good without a name. Vileness is so:

The property by what it is should go,

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;

In these to nature she’s immediate heir,

And these breed honour: that is honour’s scorn,

Which challenges itself as honour’s born

And is not like the sire: honours thrive,

When rather from our acts we them derive

Than our foregoers: the mere word’s a slave

Debosh’d on every tomb, on every grave

A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb

Where dust and damn’d oblivion is the tomb

Of honour’d bones indeed. What should be said?

If thou canst like this creature as a maid,

I can create the rest: virtue and she

Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me.

 

Just to help you out a bit: dropsied is puffed up or pretentious, and debosh’d is corrupted or depraved. So, given that, what do you think? I think the similarities to yesterday’s speech are significant. One thing that particularly stands out is the use of blood to make the point. Yesterday Shylock was telling us that Jews bleed just like Christians. Today the king is telling us that everyone’s blood is the same – pour’d all together, would quite confound distinction. Again, Totally Random lines. It’s uncanny, isn’t it?

And just one more example of things being the same, even when they may be perceived (erroneously)

to be different. In this case we get a written notice that they are the same. Too bad we couldn't get a written notice on so many other things in life! Perhaps Will's works are our written notice?