/lit/ - Literature

>>17897154
The only thing I remember from my days in theater is the Speak the speech I pray you speech. When friends need courage for a presentation or something I’ll recite it at them.

>>17897154
I have the Tomorrow and Tomorrow soliloquy memorized.

>>17897154
I can recite the entirety of King Lear in a passioned display with the correct, and rather spuriously original, annunciations.

>>17897186
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) whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh, 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 dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant. It out-Herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it.

>>17897207
Ah that's so great. I think I shall do the same. This might be the best.
>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,
That 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.

What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action now 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? No, man delights not me.

>>17897215
Yeah that one. Not the whole thing mind you, but the first line or so really gets people's blood pumping to ask out a girl or talk to their boss or show off an idea.

The only other thing I have memorized is Do you liek huey lewis and the news?

>>17897259
you ok bro?

>>17897207
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LDdyafsR7g

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
Iago, my reputation

>>17897304
>It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
good quote, I'll try to remember it

>>17897358
Crushingly nihilistic. I think the fact that is resonates so much with people is profoundly sad. It's hard to accept the meaninglessness.

>>17897304
Who did it better?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZnaXDRwu84

>>17897358
It inspired one of my favorite novels

Are there any Shakespeare quotes about suicide? Specifically suicide due to succumbing to the meaninglessness?

All that glisters is not gold
Often have you heard that told
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold
Gilded tombs do worms enfold
Had you been as wise as bold
Young in limbs, in judgment old
Your fate hath not been inscrolled
Fare you well your suit is cold
Cold, indeed and labour lost
So farewell heat and welcome frost!

>>17897458
Shakespeare makes me love the english language

>>17897154
I memorized the first 10 sonnets at one time but can't recall them anymore.

'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;
true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that
thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The
magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set
eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar
Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say,
Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the
vulgar,--O base and obscure vulgar!--videlicet, He
came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two;
overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he
come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to
whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the
beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The
conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's.
The captive is enriched: on whose side? the
beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose
side? the king's: no, on both in one, or one in
both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison:
thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness.
Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce
thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I
will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes;
for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus,
expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot,
my eyes on thy picture. and my heart on thy every
part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.'

>>17897397
Before reading Macbeth it had a much more frightening force to me, but in context it changes completely. People will just cherry-pick to justify their own intentions, like Bloom, I guess, but in his case I find it so weird to consider Shakespeare a nihilist.

>>17897759
The context is his wife just died right? I haven't read macbeth but I will.

How do I read Shakespeare?
Do I need to read the bible first?
Do I read it?
Do I watch people perform it?
Is there a /lit/ approved list of performances?
I have a big ass old complete works of Shakespeare but I haven't opened it up.

>>17897759
In context it's still pretty nihilistic. Macbeth has completely given up and moves entirely on spite at that point. Whether you agree with macbeth is personal

>>17897788
just dive in bro, don't over complicate it.

>>17897788
>How do I read Shakespeare?
You read him. Just cursory knowledge of history and mythology(both abrahamic and hellenistic) is all you n

>>17897457
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth 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.

>>17897775
Yes, but not just that. I won't give you any account of the story, just read it, it's great!

>>17897794
I mean, I agree with you that it is nihilisitc, and it should be indeed. But my issue is with people who take this quote to affirm a personal opinion on life by Shakespeare himself, as I have seen here on lit before.

>>17897823
>>17897809
Okay, I haven't read any of him since high school theater a decade ago. I was supposed to play Osric, but I failed chemistry so they replaced me with gay Osric.

The Tempest is probably my favourite of his plays.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Thus from my penis, by your vagina, my semen is purged

>>17897848
its so fucking good im gonna cum

>>17898158
im reading this right now, the first shakespeare play i've actually read.

>>17898158
This is a very similar sentiment to the Tomorrow soliloquy, right?

>>17897416
Probably Mckellen, But I think Stewart would benefit from not having that unnecessary background music.

>>17897809
>>17897788
Shakespeare isn't designed to be read it is designed to be performed and watched.
if it were designed to be read it would be more descriptive and not full of stage notes

>>17898525
Why is BGM in everything? Why not emphasise the more natural background noises instead?

>>17898381
No, not at all

>>17898557
Not true at all. It just requires imagination. You don't miss out on any of the beauty. In fact, I prefer reading them.

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

>>17898606
Not at all? Really? They both have sentiments about the meaninglessness of life. It's all a show. An illusion.

>>17897207
Ay same.

Jesus saves but.

And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought

>>17899261
It would be pretty rad if people actually spoke like this, verily.

RUMOUR
Open your ears; for which of you will stop
The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity
Under the smile of safety wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters and prepared defence,
Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures
And of so easy and so plain a stop
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize
Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before King Harry's victory;
Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury
Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is
To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword,
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than
true wrongs.

>>17899298
In a similar vein
Time
I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror
Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error,
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
To me or my swift passage, that I slide
O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried
Of that wide gap, since it is in my power
To o'erthrow law and in one self-born hour
To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was
Or what is now received: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
I turn my glass and give my scene such growing
As you had slept between: Leontes leaving,
The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving
That he shuts up himself, imagine me,
Gentle spectators, that I now may be
In fair Bohemia, and remember well,
I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel
I now name to you; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondering: what of her ensues
I list not prophecy; but let Time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth.
A shepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
If never, yet that Time himself doth say
He wishes earnestly you never may.

>>17897259
Hamleto-san...

>>17897269
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNKYGmn0X6M

>>17897154
have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world:
And for because the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father; and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
With scruples and do set the word itself
Against the word:
As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again,
'It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.'
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars
Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,
That many have and others must sit there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be,
Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing. Music do I hear?
Music

Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,
When time is broke and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear
To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string;
But for the concord of my state and time
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.
This music mads me; let it sound no more;
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

No? Why would I remember a foreign writers poems in a foreign language that I don't enjoy particularly.

The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

>>17898557
Yeah fuck all that. Reading it works just fine. I feel like watching it would make it hard to take seriously.

>>17897154
Anyone like his sonnets? Any one of them is worth memorizing, but right now I only know 15 and 64. Ian McKellen has a comfy series on YouTube where he reads them. Here's 15:

-When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment *
-When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheeréd and check'd e'en by that selfsame sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at heighth decrease
And wear their brave state out of memory;
-Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night.
-And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.

* I think line 4 should be read hypermetrically, but Ii'm not sure:
>Where-on | the-stars | in-se | cret-in | flu-ence | co-mment
Could be feminine
> Where-on | the-stars | in-se | cret-in | fl'ence-co | mment.

>>17900833
what are the best ones that will get me laid when i recite them to a fair maiden?

In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore
Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made
To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures
The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come;
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city,
Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
And Antenorides, with massy staples
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Sperr up the sons of Troy.
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard: and hither am I come
A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited
In like conditions as our argument,
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils,
Beginning in the middle, starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are:
Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

>>17897848
man, thats amazing. ive never read shakespeare, im pretty new to reading but im going to start hamlet now because of this post

>>17897154
>Did you bite your thumb at me sir?
>I do bite my thumb, sir.
>Do you bite your thumb at US, sir?
>is the law on our side if I say ay?
>no
>No, sir. I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.
>do you quaral sir?
>Quaral, sir? No, sir.
Excuse my spelling I am tired and this is as far into the scene as I cna recite off memory. As a joke in high school my grade would repeat this and bite random parts of our body to signify that one should start reciting the scene. The teachers got annoyed by us doing this. I never thought I'd be told by a teacher "you are banned from shoving your entire hand in your mouth, and [classmate] you are banned from biting your foot"
My class was weird.

>>17901294
hell yeah dude.

>>17901317
Do you bite your dick at me sir?

>>17901392
I do bite my dick, sir.

>Here’s a good world the while! Who is so gross
>That cannot see this palpable device?
>Yet who’s so bold but says he sees it not?
>Bad is the world, and all will come to naught
>When such ill-dealing must be seen in thought.
I memorized this bit from Richard III to dramatically declaim at my girlfriend whenever she says any retarded leftist bullshit. I think wanting to avoid my sudden bathetic humor has actually made her less of a dirty communist over time, I owe the Bard more than I can say.

It's nice to have a thread where we actually enjoy literature for once.

>>17901745
Yeah I memorized the Tomorrow and Tomorrow soliloquy because of this. Now for to be or not to be...
Sein oder Nichtsein das ist die Frage

>>17901773
Every day there's a new thread about how opaque and difficult poetry is. Just memorize some good poems and you'll be able to feel the goodness of art in your soul whenever you like. No matter how bleak the world is, you can increase the light of your own soul.

>>17901803
I feel you man. No homo, but I cried today while I was memorizing the tomorrow soliloquy. I could feel the weight of all the language and meaning and experience coursing through me. I've never had such an emotional reaction to poetry.

>trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ
>thou nature art my goddess. to thy law my services are bound. wherefore should I
stand in the plague of customs, and permit the curiosity of nations to deprive me, for that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines lag of a brother? why bastard? wherefore base? when my dimensions are as well compact, my mind generous, and my shape as true, as honest madam's issue? why brand they us with base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
>and oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence.
i haven't read shakespeare in a long while but these stuck with me

Learnt 'Oh what a rogue and peasant slave am I,' back in uni but it's all gone now..

>>17897154
Oh why can't I get published in England.

>>17900782
then perform some of the scenes, act them out recite the dialogue aloud