Here are a few sonnets that I selected from this week’s reading. I chose to record these because I like their musical quality well as the theme of time passing, and the references to the seasons and nature. This gave the sonnets a haunting and melancholy feel, and a bit more depth than a simple proclamation of love.
So, I created a new scene borrowing lines from Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Othello, and even Twelfth Night. In this scene, Hamlet is interrupted by Roderigo, and craziness ensues.
This has to be the most fun I’ve had with an English assignment.
HAMLET: To be, or not to be that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobl’er-
RODERIGO: Oh heaven! O, I have lost my reputation! Abhor me!
HAMLET: Hic et ubique? Come come, you’re drunk.
RODERIGO: I am not drunk now,
But alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
In sadness, I do love a woman,
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste.
Dost thou not laugh?
HAMLET: There was no such stuff in my thoughts. [Aside] O, there has been much throwing about of brains. And he grows angry.
What may you be? are you of good or evil?
RODERIGO: Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here. There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
HAMLET: ’tis true.
This is the very ecstasy of love,
Whose violent property fordoes itself
And leads the will to desperate undertakings
As oft as any passion under heaven
That does afflict our natures.
RODERIGO: What country, friend, is this?
HAMLET: A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons.
RODERIGO: You must not think then that I am drunk. [Aside] Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
God bless you, sir!
HAMLET: Is the day so young?
Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on.
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
But soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.
OPHELIA: Good my lord, was that my father that went hence so fast?
HAMLET: Ha! a dull and muddy-mettled rascal.
OPHELIA: My lord?
HAMLET: O my fair warrier!
She’s a most exquisite lady.
And, I’ll warrant her, fun of game.
OPHELIA: What means your lordship?
HAMLET: What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation.
OPHELIA: What means this, my lord?
HAMLET: And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
OPHELIA: O, help him, you sweet heavens!
HAMLET: It is offended. A scullion! The lady protests too much, methinks.
HAMLET: Who’s there?
POLONIUS: How now, Ophelia! what’s the matter?
HAMLET: Between who?
POLONIUS: God-a-mercy. Do you know me, my lord?
HAMLET: Nay, I know not:
Is it the king?
POLONIUS: Not I, my lord.
He is far gone, far gone: and
truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for
love; very near this. I’ll speak to him again.
What is the matter, my lord?
HAMLET: Sir, I lack advancement. This to your majesty; this to the queen:
For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
A very, very–pajock.
OPHELIA: You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
RODERIGO: Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
But soft! O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.
Touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.
OPHELIA: Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.
RODERIGO: You kiss by the book.
POLONIUS: No, by no means
Go on; I’ll follow thee.
[Exit RODERIGO, OPHELIA]
HAMLET: What, the fair Ophelia!
POLONIUS: My lord, this is the very ecstasy—
HAMLET: Words, words, words.
I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
Hold off your hands.
HAMLET: Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand. Villain, thou diest!
RODERIGO: O wretched villain!
[Draws, makes a pass at HAMLET]
[HAMLET stabs RODERIGO]
RODERIGO: O, I am slain!
POLONIUS: O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! Help, help, ho!
HAMLET: Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
Take thy fortune; Thou find’st to be too busy is some danger.
For this same lord,
I do repent. But heaven hath pleased it so,
To punish me with this and this with me,
That I must be their scourge and minister.
I will bestow him and will answer well
The death I gave him:
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
This man shall set me packing.
I’ll lug the guts into the neighbor room.
[Exit HAMLET, dragging RODERIGO]
Following is my very own sonnet, based on the Shakespearean format, to go towards the writing badge. It’s a slight variation on the traditional form, which has a rhyme scheme of abab cdcd, etc., and instead my poem follows an abcb form. I also tried to follow iambic pentameter, but alas! I’m no Shakespeare.
Long the sea did go unchallenged,
Yielding not to any soul,
Those who tried to chance it met
A hard embrace of deadly cold.
In the tales we hear of ancients
Who found themselves locked in their lands
And stranded, built their wooden ships,
They met on distant shores of strand.
Bold, hard men explored the world,
Fought and lived on endless sea,
They set out against an age-old foe
And carved deep grooves in history.
Yet ships still fear the depths below,
They mark the land where no man goes.