Shakespeare: the funny bits

This is one of my favourite speeches from Shakespeare, although I didn’t know which play it was from, because Borges, smartypants that he is, cites it in an essay without giving the play’s title. Parolles is a knave who’s risen to the rank of captain by bluff and trickery: a more realistic version of Falstaff, who is eventually exposed and disgraced.

Parolles: Yet I am thankful. If my heart were great,
‘Twould burst at this. Captain I’ll be no more;
But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft
As captain shall. Simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this: for it will come to pass
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and, Parolles, live
Safest in shame. Being fool’d, by fool’ry thrive.
There’s place and means for every man alive.

I thought I hadn’t been able to find any unintentional humour or silliness in All’s Well That End’s Well, but then I noticed the rhyme, or near-rhyme, in the sixth and seventh lines of the foregoing.

A very faint rainbow around our plane’s shadow on the way back from Melbourne.  The phenomenon is called a glory. This photo has had its contrast stretched to within an inch of its life to bring out the colours, we weren’t really flying over a Bill Henson theme park.

I’m starting a new job on Monday: blogging will probably be sporadic for a while. There are two Shakespeare plays in the queue.

1780-1842

I have many fond memories of the Hopetoun Hotel but I’m faintly surprised that it lasted as long as it did. I think I first saw a band there in 1986. For comparison, I wonder how many music venues in Sydney from 1963 were still in operation in that year? The old Capitol Theatre, perhaps. This post puts things in perspective.

“Slammed as racist”?

If only.

I would have said it was more “cringed over” or “blushed at” than “slammed”, but that’s how the rhetoric of this sort of thing plays out.

The reaction to casual racism has to be exaggerated. That way, the X% of Australians who think it’s all good clean fun can feel wonderfully aggrieved and wounded as the PC thought police stomp all over their simple pleasures.

Shakespeare: the funny bits

Act IV, scene IV. Troy. Pandarus’ house.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Cres. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayments could I give my grief.
My love admits no qualifying dross;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS

Pan. Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks!

Cres. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here!

Sydney has four seasons by courtesy of the first English settlers, but these have never really reflected the actual climate of the Cumberland basin. It’s time to change all that, and what better time than ’spring’?

Winter (Anzac Day – July)

Climate: not very cold

Traditional activities: working

What Happened to Summer? (August-October)

Climate: rapid alternation between Winter and Summer I, often in the same day, or hour, accompanied by strong winds and hailstorms

Traditional activities: complaining, forgetting to bring your umbrella

Summer I (aka The Silly Season) (Melbourne Cup – Australia Day)

Climate: too hot, except for Christmas Day, when it rains.

Traditional activities: drinking

February (February)

Climate: carcinogenic

Traditional activities: heatstroke, bushfires

Summer II (March)

Climate: still too hot

Traditional activities: barbeques, cleaning patios and driveways with garden hoses

Easter (Easter)

Climate: hungover with a chance of chocolate

Traditional activities: “It’s lovely once you get in”

And as a Woody Allen jezebel – a shiksa harlot -
She rose to all the challenges and out-Scarletted Scarlett…

My answer to this rhyme challenge.