I leave this blog for a single fortnight and my peeps make an all-out debauchery of my brand spanking new vacuum cleaner. Oh, the double ententres! Oh yes, my good man, I know a double entendre when I see one. I read Shakespeare in college. And the Cliff Notes, too.
Well, if you think you are so clever as to completely usurp my blog, then figure this out. I leave the rest of my writing to you in quotes from the bard himself. (Never have I felt so absolutely smart as when I speak in my Bard Voice.) See if you can name this play.
You: "In my mind's eye"
Me: "That it should come to this!"
You: "The lady doth protest too much, methinks"
Me: (Oh, you thinks, huh?) Well... "This above all: to thine own self be true."
You: "Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry"
Me: Oh, stop with the economy already. You sound like you watched the debates last night. "The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king"
You: "I will speak daggers to her, but use none"
Me: HELLO, I'm right HERE. You can speak to me in the first person!
You: "What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! "
Me: Methinks one thinks too highly of one's self. Whatever. "Brevity is the soul of wit"
Hamlet. Very very nice. One of my all time favorite plays. A "Midsummer Night's Dream" is another. Although, who could turn down MacBeth!?
ReplyDeleteI'm humbled to be in such a noble and educated presence!
Let it be known, all ye readers, that Eaglescout had to be TOLD that Hamlet was the play.
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The Play is the the thing. All the men and women are but actors and actresses in the play.
ReplyDeleteOk - Here you go - "Alas - poor Yorich. I knew him Horatio. His was a mind of infinite jest!"
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ReplyDeleteOoh, ooh, I wanna play! I remember memorizing this for Dr. Simmons' Shakespeare class my senior year:
ReplyDeleteTo-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Romeo...Romeo...wherefore art thou...
ReplyDeleteOh, never mind. Can we play sumptin' else?
"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind's eye to remember these - our fortuitous ruins or our jubilant rejoice at our mind's wildest greatest fortune - is but a jester's folly in the presence of the king."
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