--- In [email protected], "Patrick Gillam" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> 
wrote:
>
> Judy, I agree with your analysis below. Reminds me of my MIU second
> year literature course with Rhoda Orme-Johnson.
> 
> I recently listened to "Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became
> Shakespeare," by Stephen Greenblatt. It was a terrific blend of
> scholarship, history and literature. At once it made Shakespeare
> more of a man, and more of a miracle.

Thanks, Patrick, I just put this on my Amazon list.

Miracle is right. Impossibly brilliant


> 
> After finishing the book I watched "Shakespeare in Love." Great fun.
> It captured many of the points made in Greenblatt's work.
> 
> 
> > --- In [email protected], "authfriend" <jstein@> 
wrote:
> >
> > --- In [email protected], Duveyoung <no_reply@> wrote:
> > <snip>
> > I'm quite a wonderful person, by most standards, but
> > > remember that Shakespeare ended the "what a piece of work is 
man"
> > > soliloquy with "Why it appears no other thing to me than a foul 
and
> > > pestilent congregation of vapors."
> > 
> > Well, not exactly. Here's the speech (not a
> > soliloquy; he delivers it to Rosenkrantz and
> > Guildenstern, explaining that King Claudius
> > has sent for them to try to jolly him, Hamlet,
> > out of his depression):
> > 
> > I have of late,--but wherefore I know not,--lost all my
> > mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed,
> > it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly
> > frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this
> > most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
> > o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with
> > golden fire,--why, it appears no other thing to me than a
> > foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece
> > of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in
> > faculties! 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! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of
> > dust? Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither,
> > though by your smiling you seem to say so.
> > 
> > In other words: He's very clear--remarkably clear--
> > that it's not that he's suddenly realized that the
> > earth is really nothing but a "congregation of
> > vapours," or that other people have no more value
> > than dust. He's not passing judgment on the earth
> > and human beings, he's saying there's something
> > wrong *with him* that he can't take pleasure in
> > their magnificence.
> > 
> > It's a perfect description of the experience of
> > clinical depression (say I, having also
> > experienced it).
> > 
> > Hamlet's not the only Shakespearean character
> > who gives a good account of depression. Here's
> > Macbeth:
> > 
> > Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
> > 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
> > Who 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.
> > 
> > I had a minor epiphany awhile back thinking
> > about this soliloquy, and how it might be
> > performed very differently: not as a descent
> > into despair, but as an awakening, as a sudden
> > realization of Self, of liberation.
> > 
> > Here I've been going through all this agony
> > of guilt and fear, and--it's meaningless! 
> > What have I been beating my head against the
> > wall for? I'm not this walking shadow, this
> > poor player strutting and fretting, and I
> > never was.
> > 
> > I envision the actor starting out sunk in
> > utter misery. But by the time he gets to
> > "It is a tale told by an idiot," he begins to
> > get it.  And after "signifying nothing," he
> > breaks out in a peal of astonished, joyful
> > laughter.
> > 
> > Macbeth, the serial murderer, goes from the Dark
> > Night of the Soul to emergence into the Light
> > in ten lines.
> > 
> > What a genius, that Shakespeare.
> >
>


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