Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring
You Britaines brave; for done are Shakespeares dayes :
His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes,
Which made the Globe of heav’n and earth to ring.
Dry’de is that veine, dry’d is the Thespian Spring,
Turn’d all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes :
That corp’s, that coffin now besticke those bayes,
Which crown’d him Poet first, then Poets King.
If Tragedies might any Prologue have,
All those he made, would scarse make a one to this :
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave
(Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is,
For though his line of life went soone about,
The life yet of his lines shall never out.
H U G H H O L L A N D.
(source link)
Somebody tell me about this. I’m interested lately in the dedications of the First Folio. Other than Ben Jonson’s portion, I really had no idea there were so many. This is actually really good stuff here that I’ve picked, and I’m quite surprised that I don’t hear more about it. “which crowned him poet first, then poets’ king?” That’s good stuff!
So I think that everybody has seen Jim Meskimen’s amazing Shakespeare video over the past couple of days:
It’s just crazy impressive. You must watch. What’s fascinating is that, probably because he needed a long speech to work with, he gives us Clarence’s speech from Richard III – something that the large majority of the listening audience is sure to not recognize (I’ve attached it at the end, for reference. He works around Brakenbury’s periodic interruptions).
What’s your favorite part? What little tidbits does he sneak in that you spotted and appreciated? Like Ron Howard getting the line about “Happy Days” 🙂 Or when Craig Ferguson sticks in an, “I know!” out of nowhere. Obama’s reference to “his dream”, etc…
For some reason, I think his George W. Bush, right when he says “York”, is hysterical. I don’t know why, it just sounds exactly like Bush would have said it, not like he was reciting Shakespeare, but like he was in conversation with somebody and retelling a story with emphasis on random bits.
CLARENCE
O, I have pass’d a miserable night,
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though ’twere to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal terror was the time!
BRAKENBURY
What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.
CLARENCE
Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embark’d to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloucester;
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand fearful times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall’n us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw’d upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scatter’d in the bottom of the sea:
Some lay in dead men’s skulls; and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As ’twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
Which woo’d the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock’d the dead bones that lay scatter’d by.
BRAKENBURY
Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?
CLARENCE
Methought I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;
But smother’d it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
BRAKENBURY
Awaked you not with this sore agony?
CLARENCE
O, no, my dream was lengthen’d after life;
O, then began the tempest to my soul,
Who pass’d, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cried aloud, ‘What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?’
And so he vanish’d: then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood; and he squeak’d out aloud,
‘Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabb’d me in the field by Tewksbury;
Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!’
With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
Environ’d me about, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made the dream.
(originally asked on Twitter, so my followers there who are about to click into the story and possibly see no new content…)
My daughter asked me this weekend about the Henry plays. I think she’s fascinated by the Roman numerals, especially given how I say “Henry the fourth” but then I say “Henry vee”.
She’d like to know why there was a 4, 5, 6 and 8 … but no 7. So, I asked on Twitter. Here’s the responses I’ve gotten so far, in no particular order:
“He was boring?”
“Richard III could, if you squint just right, be called Henry VII…”
“perhaps b/c the latter part of his reign was characterised by a financial rapacity which stretched the bounds of legality.”
“Maybe he just didn’t get to it– not so safe while Elizabeth lived, judging from R3, and once James was on the throne, Henry VIII was more useful for praising both James and Elizabeth.”
“most likely since HVII was politically “tricky”. Even HVIII was tricky to do with AB’s daughter on throne. He was savvy.”
“Some ppl thought HVII not “regal” or “noble” enough for throne & he stole it. best avoid topic. Earlier Hs no prob so long.”
I’ve often said that I’m weak in the histories – not to mention, the *actual* history. Feel free to expand on any of the above ideas, or contribute new ones. I don’t think that his having stolen the throne, or stretched the bounds of legality, would necessarily have meant that there was no good story there to tell. But from my limited understanding of the political families, I can understand the idea of Shakespeare simply not being allowed to tell a story that was anything less than positive.
So this week I took the girls – who are now 9 and almost 7 – to their first tragedy, Macbeth. I hope to write up that show shortly, once the organizers get me some names so I can give credit.
Anyway…my girls didn’t love it. Too many people died. Which is to be expected, since this is their first real tragedy. They told me that this was certainly Shakespeare’s grossest play.
“Well it’s one of them,” said I, “But certainly not the grossest. I think that would have to be Titus Andronicus.”
“Why is that one gross?”
“That one is so gross I’m not even going to tell you how gross it is.”
“Do people die?”
“Oh, yes. People do worse than die.”
“Tell us.”
“Well this one guy kills this other guy, right?”
“Yeah…”
“And then he chops him up into little pieces …”
“Ok, stop.”
“…and then he bakes them into a pie…”
“Stop.”
“…and then he makes the guy’s mother eat the pie.”
Quite frankly I know almost nothing about it. I’ll do some research before I go, familiarize myself with the plot of course. But I’m curious to see if it holds up to a certain test. Namely, the “What’s it famous for?” test.
When I saw As You Like It a few years ago, I don’t think it really had the audience’s attention. That is, until Jaques started in on “All the world’s a stage…” and you could have heard a pin drop, as everybody in the audience simultaneously thought, “Oh, wait, I know that speech!” and stopped to listen.
Twelfth Night has a similar moment when Orsino gives us “If music be the food of love, play on!” although, naturally, that occurs too early to be a head turning moment. But it certainly gets the play started with even the most casual fan’s attention!
So, somebody sell me on All’s Well. What line, speech or scene is going to show up here that I’m going to recognize and say, “Oh, *that’s* where that comes from?!”
