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Shakespeare's Sonnet 66:
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
You know, as of today (17 January, 2017), the top three (American) Google auto-complete results for “Shakespeare Sonnet” are:
I predict this one will rise in the rankings over the next four years.
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
You know, as of today (17 January, 2017), the top three (American) Google auto-complete results for “Shakespeare Sonnet” are:
- 116 (Let me not to the marriage of true minds),
- 18 (Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?) and
- 130 (My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun).
I predict this one will rise in the rankings over the next four years.
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There's a reason Shakespeare set all his social/political commentary plays in either far-away "exotic" places, or long, long ago. or both.
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*sigh*
I actually woke up yesterday with the sentiment of that closing couplet in my head. I really don't want to live to see the end of the world (32 years ago, when Reagan was reelected, I thought the end would come from global nuclear war -- turned out to be AIDS, instead -- and now, it's global warming).
But if I check out now, there would be one less person to support my friends, who're doing their best to fight back. And that matters.
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So this is often a sonnet I'll look for, for individual readings on YouTube. When I first started searching I was struck that the videos made of it were most often from Russian and German accounts.
Not surprising. But it does make a point, and I think the vloggers who make their own "fanvids" of this poem, even though English is their second (or third, or fourth) language, have a better sense of the poem's meaning than the "official" study guides I've seen from American publishers.
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I'm trying to maintain the two ideas in my head of, one, recognizing and not trying to deny that things are bleak as hell, and, two, behaving as if there is hope because nothing else makes sense; and I'm struggling with that, but I have good role models.
It's good to remember that friends and loved ones want us here.
I am grateful to you for sharing the poem.
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It's a beautiful piece of writing, and the parallelism in each line just sings.
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Indeed.
"art made tongue-tied by authority." is a punch in my solar plexis, every time.
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"And captive good attending captain ill" gets me, too.
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Hey, if you'll pick me up when it's awful & I need it, I'll pick you up when it's awful & you need it, mmkay?
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(I'm so glad you're here to do it.)
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(And that's the second big reason I hate the Shakespeare identity conspiracies -- the first one being loathsome snobbery -- is that in such a society any big secrets would collapse along with the system that kept them).
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In this world, surviving is an act of radical rebellion.
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