Monday, 10 November 2008
With One Bound He Was Free (2)
I live alone
In my own Heaven...
Gm. Not at all like the late and great Great Orlando.
Hamlet: Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
as many of your players do, I had as lief the
town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
for the most part are capable of nothing but
inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.
The Wind: I will rattle your sash windows without cease.
Sausage-eaters: We have nothing to hide and nothing to fear. Smell our penises: they have not been anywhere they should't ought to have been and done nothing they didn't ought to have not done. Please be good enough, sir, to smell my penis. You will find I am an innocent man.
Shagspire: I'm getting... smoked mackerel. And a mouldy basement cluttered with broken office furniture.
Ground Porks: You mean that five-legged high-backed swivel chair only one of the arms has broken off leaving a Roehamptonly exposed steel joint and some loose yellow foam protruding from the mulberry upholstery, which you ought not to have to look at?
Shøgspør: Just leave th'poetry to me, k?
Groundlings: (who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise): K.