pallas_athena: (Default)
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

Hamlet, I.i
pallas_athena: (Default)
MACDUFF:
What three things does drink especially provoke?

PORTER:
Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine! Lechery, sir, it provokes, and un-provokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

MACDUFF:
I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.


Wishing you all great drunkenness and lechery for Shakespeare's birthday!
pallas_athena: (Default)
I headed last entry with a quote from Romeo and Juliet, Act I scene iv. That's one of my favourite scenes in all of Shakespeare, and always has been.

I know nobody really likes Romeo and Juliet since everyone gets force-fed it in school, but I have to admit I kind of love it. The verse isn't on as epic a scale as, say, Antony and Cleopatra, but that smaller canvas is a masterpiece: the colours extravagant but balanced; the faces uncannily alive; the detail perfect down to the last touch of gilding. Romeo and Juliet is a poet's play, and though the characters are unmistakably real people, poetry is the language they all speak.
Shake-speare? More like Fall-staff )
So what are your favourite Shakespearean moments? Enquiring minds want to know!
pallas_athena: (Default)
Not making this up, this is a real thing:
ROMEO AND JULIET: THE WAR

THIS IS THE STORY OF... two groups of superhuman soldiers who turned the Empire of Verona into the most powerful territory on Earth. The MONTAGUES, powerful cyborgs made from artificial DNA, and the CAPULETS, genetically enhanced humans known for their speed and agility, worked in tandem to destroy all threats to the city. With no one left to fight, the Montagues and Capulets found a new enemy: each other.


One of the names behind this: Smilin' Stan Lee, of course. Who by any other name would also probably smell as sweet.
pallas_athena: (brains)
I'm back in London. Fear the Jetlag Zombie, who has no idea what time to eat your brains...

In DC, [livejournal.com profile] speedlime and I were lucky enough to get into the opening night of All's Well That Ends Well at the Shakespeare Theatre, a play Speedy hadn't seen before. There were a lot of good things about the production, but my absolute favourite moment of the night was Speedy leaning over to me to whisper, in shocked tones: "Wow, Bertram's a douchebag!"

Shakespeare's original audience probably said much the same thing.
pallas_athena: (Default)
I saw some absolutely lovely Shakespeare yesterday at the Globe: Henry IV parts I and II.

Part of what I love about the Henry IV plays is that they're all about relationships: primarily, of course, Prince Hal's with his father and Falstaff, but also the Percys, the Glendower-Mortimers and the "family" of rogues and reprobates who surround Falstaff and Quickly. Even Shallow and Silence, brief as their stage-time is, are first-class bros.

In this production, all the relationships are absolutely believable. That's rare: in many productions the Henry IV-Hal-Falstaff triangle reduces everyone else to mere satellites. But in this show-- holy hell, the Percys! This is the first Henry IV I've seen in which the Percys (Sam Crane and Lorna Stuart) were believable as a couple. Hallelujah, they manage to make Lady Percy not annoying! Her wild, rough, sexy relationship with Hotspur makes perfect sense. It makes the scene with Glendower and the Mortimers (another relationship beautifully expressed in a mere moment of stage-time) amazing and beautiful and painful and poignant.
Further reviewage hereunder )

Meanwhile, my hometown gets to experience Shakespeare's Hamlet in the original Klingon. The director tells us: "He whines, he vacillates, he sacrifices his Klingon heritage... 'Hamlet' is seditious, because it sends the wrong message to the Klingon youth."
pallas_athena: (Default)
I spent last weekend encamped in a green field at the foot of Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire. I was singing, doing running crew and generally causing trouble at the Berkeley Skirmish, a lovely medieval fair and battle reenactment. Berkeley was my first such event last year, and I loved it, so I came back for more.

This year there was some rain, but as always, the good company made it worthwhile. In particular, the dauntless endurance of [livejournal.com profile] monochromegirl, [livejournal.com profile] evilmattikinz and [livejournal.com profile] gothichaven was an inspiration, as well as the panoply of friends, new and old, encountered on the field or in the beer tent.

I brought along my copy of Richard II to read while there, and was astonished to find that Berkeley Castle actually gets a mention in the text. Act II, scene 3: the banished Henry Bolingbroke (soon to become Henry IV) has just returned to England on hearing that his inheritance as Duke of Lancaster has been seized by King Richard. You can read the whole scene here
or check out my summary below )
pallas_athena: (Default)
I spent last weekend encamped in a green field at the foot of Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire. I was singing, doing running crew and generally causing trouble at the Berkeley Skirmish, a lovely medieval fair and battle reenactment. Berkeley was my first such event last year, and I loved it, so I came back for more.

This year there was some rain, but as always, the good company made it worthwhile. In particular, the dauntless endurance of [livejournal.com profile] monochromegirl, [livejournal.com profile] evilmattikinz and [livejournal.com profile] gothichaven was an inspiration, as well as the panoply of friends, new and old, encountered on the field or in the beer tent.

I brought along my copy of Richard II to read while there, and was astonished to find that Berkeley Castle actually gets a mention in the text. Act II, scene 3: the banished Henry Bolingbroke (soon to become Henry IV) has just returned to England on hearing that his inheritance as Duke of Lancaster has been seized by King Richard. You can read the whole scene here
or check out my summary below )
pallas_athena: (Default)

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear: your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth hath present laughter,
What's to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty!
Youth's a stuff will not endure.



Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, II, iii


pallas_athena: (Default)

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear: your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth hath present laughter,
What's to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty!
Youth's a stuff will not endure.



Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, II, iii


pallas_athena: (Default)

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference: as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
'This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
I would not change it.



Shakespeare, As You Like It, II, i


pallas_athena: (Default)

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference: as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
'This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
I would not change it.



Shakespeare, As You Like It, II, i


pallas_athena: (Default)
Friday is Venus's day in most Romance languages; in the Germanic ones (and ours) it's Freyja's day, she being the Nordic goddess of fertility and such. [livejournal.com profile] library_keeper has got things off to a fine start with his post on seventeenth-century sheepshagging, and I thought I'd follow up with some spear-shaking by Will:

Sonnet 129

THE expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Sonnet 151

Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Friday is Venus's day in most Romance languages; in the Germanic ones (and ours) it's Freyja's day, she being the Nordic goddess of fertility and such. [livejournal.com profile] library_keeper has got things off to a fine start with his post on seventeenth-century sheepshagging, and I thought I'd follow up with some spear-shaking by Will:

Sonnet 129

THE expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Sonnet 151

Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Sonnet 147

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Sonnet 147

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Sonnet 23

As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Sonnet 23

As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Sonnet XLIII by William Shakespeare

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so?
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Sonnet XLIII by William Shakespeare

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so?
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

Profile

pallas_athena: (Default)
pallas_athena

August 2014

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
171819202122 23
24252627282930
31      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Aug. 18th, 2017 04:25 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios