March 29, 2009

Gloster speaks for me

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now,--instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,--
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I,--that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;--
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore,--since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,--
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,--
About a prophecy which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:--here Clarence comes.


I am pretty certain that many did not take the time to read the entire opening soliloquy from Richard III. No problem. I didn't type out the whole darned thing either. I, for some strange reason, feel the need to reconnect with ol' Will theese days. In the past I have always been attracted to his comedies, but now it is Richard and Othello and other tragic characters who call out to me.


Unlike Shakespeare's Winter mine has remained and the rancor that built the walls in the first place have been supplemented by ingratitude and harsh judgement and the blocks cemented together by silence and indifference.

I find that it is good to get lost in words, either your own or those of others, when all your words, pleas and queries fall upon deaf ears. The hundreds of entries I have written in this and other places has been an escape. Unfortunately, no matter how often and how far I delve into books, I am never really very distant from reality.
I have been forced to question myself. Prodded by both my conscience and accusations.
The only problem with self examination is that you only come up with answers that your brain will allow and we all know that self opinion is not always reliable.
So I look toward my actions and wonder about the motivations behind them.
How does you know if you are "good"? And does it really matter?
How far do you have to go to remain true to a promise?
When is sefishness a positive trait and not a negative one?
How do I stop hurting those I care about and still find satisfaction and happiness?
Man o man I gotts start drinking again!
Where's that idiotic spork? I'm gonna stab something.

13 comments:

Carla said...

I had an English professor who told me that Shakespeare's tragedies are for those who think and comedies for those who feel. I've always loved his tragedies and feel that his comedies are all, ironically, somewhat tragic. Well, food for thought. Happy Sunday.

Megan said...

Some tough questions for a Sunday morning - and before my coffee has kicked in!

I am a self-absorbed, lying, hurtful bitch. But I try to fight it. And when I get tired of fighting, I hide it. And when I can't manage either of those, I apologize.

I apologize a lot.

citizen of the world said...

I can't believe you started with Shakespeare and ended with that spork.

NYD said...

Carla~ There are many tragic figures in his comedies and vice versa. Life is, after all, a comedy of errors and misfortune.

Megan~ I am far too tired to apologise. I just keep on stuffing it deep inside like a kid hiding his mess under his bed.

Citizen~ The spork is the most comically tragic object in our post modern society. Sporks are godlike!

Sam said...

I've been especially ill lately and I've been losing myself in the words of others as my only real escape. I bought some new books, some anthologies - one of speculative fiction and one of femme fatales. I have a few others but not nearly as engaging. I think I understand.

Beth said...

I’m reconnecting with Tennyson's "Ulysses" – “…to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield…” Just gotta figure out what I’m striving for.
And I agree - self-examination is highly over-rated and way too subjective.
Best of luck on your quest.

Kurt said...

Be glad there are accusations. The worst is when people just disappear from your life, not even bothering to tell you what it is you did wrong.

lime said...

is it the season of our life? i am feeling darker works call to me too. not the bard (as i have to admit i have a mental block with regard to the unfamiliar syntax and vocabulary) but others who cover the seedier side. you ask a number of deep questions. i hope you find the answers you need.

moi said...

Everything I ever needed to know in life, I learned from Shakespeare.

Like:
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!

whimsical brainpan said...

I think being good is important and it does matter.

As for the rest only you could answer those...

Just finished reading a great book about morality gone awry, "The Philosopher's Apprentice", by James Morrow.

Serena said...

I love the darker works, "Macbeth" especially. Here's what I think about self-examination. I used to think I was 100% absolutely right about my every instinct, decision, etc. Now I find myself questioning deeper about why I do what I do and, the truth is, now I don't know what the hell I'm doing or if it's right half the time. Where's a spork when you need one?

Mona said...

shakespearian tragedies like greek tragedies were meant to purge through pity and terror. However they have thick slices of life that one can relate to.

I agree. We can almost always justify no matter what we do. So we ned to ask ourselves those questions & for each , the answer is unique and relative to the person concerned.

NYD said...

Group Hug! Thaks you all for such literate, literary and insightfull answers.
I don't have the time to spare for individual responses, but I will try to make my way to your blogs and say hello.