"On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree.” — W.S. Merwin
  • Mr. Shakespeare has a birthday

    (0)
    Posted on April 23rd, 2009sherryPoets

    from As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII:

    JAQUES:
    A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the forest,
    A motley fool; a miserable world!
    As I do live by food, I met a fool
    Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun,
    And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms,
    In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
    ‘Good morrow, fool,’ quoth I. ‘No, sir,’ quoth he,
    ‘Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:’
    And then he drew a dial from his poke,
    And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
    Says very wisely, ‘It is ten o’clock:
    Thus we may see,’ quoth he, ‘how the world wags:
    ‘Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
    And after one hour more ’twill be eleven;
    And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
    And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
    And thereby hangs a tale.’ When I did hear
    The motley fool thus moral on the time,
    My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
    That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
    And I did laugh sans intermission
    An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
    A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.

    DUKE SENIOR:
    What fool is this?

    JAQUES:
    O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
    And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
    They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
    Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
    After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d
    With observation, the which he vents
    In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
    I am ambitious for a motley coat.

    DUKE SENIOR:
    Thou shalt have one.

    JAQUES:
    It is my only suit;
    Provided that you weed your better judgments
    Of all opinion that grows rank in them
    That I am wise. I must have liberty
    Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
    To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
    And they that are most galled with my folly,
    They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
    The ‘why’ is plain as way to parish church:
    He that a fool doth very wisely hit
    Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
    Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
    The wise man’s folly is anatomized
    Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
    Invest me in my motley; give me leave
    To speak my mind, and I will through and through
    Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
    If they will patiently receive my medicine.

    Possibly related posts:

      Donne on Sunday
      Donne on Sunday
      When all else fails, turn to Shakespeare
      Donne on Sunday
      Steven R. Cope

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Sherry Chandler has received professional development funding and a Professional Assistance Award through the Kentucky Arts Council, the state arts agency, supported by state tax dollars and federal funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. Kentucky Arts Council Sherry has also received an Artist Enrichment grant from the Kentucky Foundation for Women. kfw
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