RR
26th June 2006, 02:02 PM
Shakespeare, Shaken, not Strirred - 4
- Badri & Prabhu Ram
Important Notice from the Author:
As you – the avid reader - would have perhaps realized by now, this series aims at making the Bard turn – or is it squirm – in his grave. And just in case one hand wasn’t quite enough to achieve this purpose, I have decided to recruit a fellow conspirator.
Hearken to the fanfare (in your own minds please, we are running on a tight budget here), as I announce my collaboration with Prabhu Ram, who has agreed to be co-author of Shakespeare, Shaken, not Stirred.
We, in the immortal words of Jeeves, strive to satisfy.
Read on therefore, gentle readers, and applaud!
Act I Scene III
England is a land celebrated for its aunts and uncles. What differentiates them as a species is the tendency to fall into an elaborate discourse on moral values at the slightest instance. Where everyone sees a gap in conversation, an uncle sees an opportunity. Generations of unsuspecting English nephews have been tricked into tea sessions where firm views on life have been dispensed. The do’s the don’ts, the should’s, the shan’ts are expounded. It bottles up till the victim in question grows up to have a nephew or niece. Then he lures his victim with muffins and passes on the legacy of gratuitous advice. If Bertram Wooster went through it, so must have William Shakespeare. We surmise so because Act I Sc III of Hamlet, as we intend to show you, is filled to the brim with people telling each other how to go about treating others, including each other.
It starts off as an innocent enough scene, where Laertes has packed his bags and is all set to leave Denmark and go back to France. We all know Laertes, now don’t we – in case you don’t, go and read the previous instalment, we are certainly not going to explain it to you now – who had come to make his loyalties clear. As he says to the King in the previous scene, he had come to show my duty in your coronation (i.e. coronation, not the funeral of the dead king- so the informed reader is already informed that this chap is from the ‘opposite’ camp). Along with him is his sister Ophelia who is immediately introduced as Hamlet’s love interest.
Laertes: All the packing is done, sister. Good bye and keep writing.
Opehlia: Don’t worry. I shall fill all my idle time writing letters to you.
Laertes: Ah, that reminds me. Too much of your time, my sister, seems to be taken up by our dear Prince Hamlet, for any to remain idle. Take Hamlet’s expressed interest with a pinch of salt. It is all perfume and won’t last.
Ophelia takes umbrage to that quick surmise of what is professedly an eternal emotion. (And besides, her particular brand of eau de parfum (Kølig Vand Woman) did linger for a long time, and hours after she left a place, people were known to sniff, “Hmm, five krones that Opehlia was here”.)
Laertes dons the empathy cap, a technique used cunningly in debates till date, to root out the opposition (a favourite tactic of one the authors, beware!). He flows on to say that Hamlet’s intention may be all fine now but in the long run he wouldn’t quite bet on the relationship working. Hamlet being the prince (poor child one can almost hear him say) cannot choose for himself:
He may not as unvalued persons do
Carve for himself
Quite cleverly, through the mouth of a foil, Shakespeare introduces a justification that would be the means of understanding many of Hamlet’s actions to come. Having done this, Laertes proceeds to spook Ophelia out completely by elaborating on the viciousness of sordid rumours and the grave risks and general gloom that was around. If one didn’t know better, one would have thought he is selling insurance. But, if Laertes had nurtured any notions of having floored his sister with his concern, they must have fallen to dust. Ophelia collects herself and recommends rectitude back to her brother and asks him to clip any ideas of treading the primrose path of dalliance after this holier-than-thou speech of his.
One must always learn to leave the party before it’s over. Some people learn this the hard way. Just by the time Laertes realizes he has overstayed and must make a move, it is too late. Polonius descends on the duo and with no warning whatsoever he starts raining pearls of wisdom which we can picture Laertes recording for posterity, scrapbook and pencil at hand. If you thought Laertes was fond of delivering unsolicited advice, it doesn’t take long for us to discover which side of the family he gets that from.
Polonius’ instruction to his son has since been quoted, re-quoted and misquoted down the centuries, but the Bard is at his philosophical best here.
Give thy thoughts no tongue…
Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar…
A precious piece of wisdom, stopping short of being completely useful for it fails to answer that key question many a young man has since asked, especially in their tentative encounters with pretty women – “How familiar can you get before you start to become vulgar?” We are sadly unaware if, out of their mathematical musings, any had arrived at precise value of ideal familiarity. So one can at best conclude, as one Samuel Clemens did, that familiarity breeds attempt.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
One wonders though how happy those tried and trusted friends would be to submit themselves to be thus bound.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
And so on only to finally sum it up with
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man
Thus Polonius wraps up his farewell speech. As soon as Polonius is done, Laertes, whose long filial instincts are sharp, wastes no time leaving. As a parting shot he asks Ophelia not to forget what he had advised. Mentioning this in the presence of Polonius, who just demonstrated that he is in full form in dispensing wisdom to offsprings, is nothing but the thoughtless cruelty of a mischievous brother. He exeunts chuckling as Polonius asks the dreaded question:
What is’t Ophelia, he hath said to you ?
Something touching the Lord Hamlet says Ophelia: a great example of a touch and go response. Unfortunately, though Polonius is technically a diplomat, diplomacy works only with people who at least pretend to look away when you are typing passwords. Polonius is just not the type. He demands details of what’s going on between her and Hamlet.
Ophelia: He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
After saying which, we are sure, she bit her tongue hard, for Polonius catches the word tender and proceeds to squeeze every single meaning of the word out of it.
Don’t take these tenders (promissory notes) for true pay, he says
Tender yourself more dearly
Or---you'll tender me a fool
Ophelia, a slow learner, persists with her father and says Hamlet has made vows to heaven.
Traps, it is all flame, says Polonius. With the benefit of experience on his side in these issues, he says promises flow aplenty when passions run high:
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows
Do not be easily available
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence
And
Set your entreatments at a higher rate
By which, dubious as it sounds, he only asks her to value herself more.
As a prince, Hamlet’s scope is larger than yours
And with a larger tether may he walk
Than may be given you:
Quite notably, this is completely opposite to Laertes’ argument that Hamlet’s choice is limited. Ophelia, the poor girl with proven learning disability, finds herself unequal to this complex logic and is all ready to snap the first simple instruction that comes her way. And Polonius supplies it:
I charge you: come your ways.
As this simplified the scheme of things for her, Ophelia is vocal in her response
I shall obey, my lord.
With all bowls over, the scene ends here. The scene is also an epigram-dropper’s delight.
On the surface this scene is a clever ploy where the playwright establishes the ground situation, the nature of three principal characters and their opinions all in a very short span of time.
Upon deconstruction, it reveals the liberating cry of a young Stratford lad who has suffered many an avuncular tea.
[tscii:15d92ce9b8][/tscii:15d92ce9b8]
- Badri & Prabhu Ram
Important Notice from the Author:
As you – the avid reader - would have perhaps realized by now, this series aims at making the Bard turn – or is it squirm – in his grave. And just in case one hand wasn’t quite enough to achieve this purpose, I have decided to recruit a fellow conspirator.
Hearken to the fanfare (in your own minds please, we are running on a tight budget here), as I announce my collaboration with Prabhu Ram, who has agreed to be co-author of Shakespeare, Shaken, not Stirred.
We, in the immortal words of Jeeves, strive to satisfy.
Read on therefore, gentle readers, and applaud!
Act I Scene III
England is a land celebrated for its aunts and uncles. What differentiates them as a species is the tendency to fall into an elaborate discourse on moral values at the slightest instance. Where everyone sees a gap in conversation, an uncle sees an opportunity. Generations of unsuspecting English nephews have been tricked into tea sessions where firm views on life have been dispensed. The do’s the don’ts, the should’s, the shan’ts are expounded. It bottles up till the victim in question grows up to have a nephew or niece. Then he lures his victim with muffins and passes on the legacy of gratuitous advice. If Bertram Wooster went through it, so must have William Shakespeare. We surmise so because Act I Sc III of Hamlet, as we intend to show you, is filled to the brim with people telling each other how to go about treating others, including each other.
It starts off as an innocent enough scene, where Laertes has packed his bags and is all set to leave Denmark and go back to France. We all know Laertes, now don’t we – in case you don’t, go and read the previous instalment, we are certainly not going to explain it to you now – who had come to make his loyalties clear. As he says to the King in the previous scene, he had come to show my duty in your coronation (i.e. coronation, not the funeral of the dead king- so the informed reader is already informed that this chap is from the ‘opposite’ camp). Along with him is his sister Ophelia who is immediately introduced as Hamlet’s love interest.
Laertes: All the packing is done, sister. Good bye and keep writing.
Opehlia: Don’t worry. I shall fill all my idle time writing letters to you.
Laertes: Ah, that reminds me. Too much of your time, my sister, seems to be taken up by our dear Prince Hamlet, for any to remain idle. Take Hamlet’s expressed interest with a pinch of salt. It is all perfume and won’t last.
Ophelia takes umbrage to that quick surmise of what is professedly an eternal emotion. (And besides, her particular brand of eau de parfum (Kølig Vand Woman) did linger for a long time, and hours after she left a place, people were known to sniff, “Hmm, five krones that Opehlia was here”.)
Laertes dons the empathy cap, a technique used cunningly in debates till date, to root out the opposition (a favourite tactic of one the authors, beware!). He flows on to say that Hamlet’s intention may be all fine now but in the long run he wouldn’t quite bet on the relationship working. Hamlet being the prince (poor child one can almost hear him say) cannot choose for himself:
He may not as unvalued persons do
Carve for himself
Quite cleverly, through the mouth of a foil, Shakespeare introduces a justification that would be the means of understanding many of Hamlet’s actions to come. Having done this, Laertes proceeds to spook Ophelia out completely by elaborating on the viciousness of sordid rumours and the grave risks and general gloom that was around. If one didn’t know better, one would have thought he is selling insurance. But, if Laertes had nurtured any notions of having floored his sister with his concern, they must have fallen to dust. Ophelia collects herself and recommends rectitude back to her brother and asks him to clip any ideas of treading the primrose path of dalliance after this holier-than-thou speech of his.
One must always learn to leave the party before it’s over. Some people learn this the hard way. Just by the time Laertes realizes he has overstayed and must make a move, it is too late. Polonius descends on the duo and with no warning whatsoever he starts raining pearls of wisdom which we can picture Laertes recording for posterity, scrapbook and pencil at hand. If you thought Laertes was fond of delivering unsolicited advice, it doesn’t take long for us to discover which side of the family he gets that from.
Polonius’ instruction to his son has since been quoted, re-quoted and misquoted down the centuries, but the Bard is at his philosophical best here.
Give thy thoughts no tongue…
Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar…
A precious piece of wisdom, stopping short of being completely useful for it fails to answer that key question many a young man has since asked, especially in their tentative encounters with pretty women – “How familiar can you get before you start to become vulgar?” We are sadly unaware if, out of their mathematical musings, any had arrived at precise value of ideal familiarity. So one can at best conclude, as one Samuel Clemens did, that familiarity breeds attempt.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
One wonders though how happy those tried and trusted friends would be to submit themselves to be thus bound.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
And so on only to finally sum it up with
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man
Thus Polonius wraps up his farewell speech. As soon as Polonius is done, Laertes, whose long filial instincts are sharp, wastes no time leaving. As a parting shot he asks Ophelia not to forget what he had advised. Mentioning this in the presence of Polonius, who just demonstrated that he is in full form in dispensing wisdom to offsprings, is nothing but the thoughtless cruelty of a mischievous brother. He exeunts chuckling as Polonius asks the dreaded question:
What is’t Ophelia, he hath said to you ?
Something touching the Lord Hamlet says Ophelia: a great example of a touch and go response. Unfortunately, though Polonius is technically a diplomat, diplomacy works only with people who at least pretend to look away when you are typing passwords. Polonius is just not the type. He demands details of what’s going on between her and Hamlet.
Ophelia: He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
After saying which, we are sure, she bit her tongue hard, for Polonius catches the word tender and proceeds to squeeze every single meaning of the word out of it.
Don’t take these tenders (promissory notes) for true pay, he says
Tender yourself more dearly
Or---you'll tender me a fool
Ophelia, a slow learner, persists with her father and says Hamlet has made vows to heaven.
Traps, it is all flame, says Polonius. With the benefit of experience on his side in these issues, he says promises flow aplenty when passions run high:
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows
Do not be easily available
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence
And
Set your entreatments at a higher rate
By which, dubious as it sounds, he only asks her to value herself more.
As a prince, Hamlet’s scope is larger than yours
And with a larger tether may he walk
Than may be given you:
Quite notably, this is completely opposite to Laertes’ argument that Hamlet’s choice is limited. Ophelia, the poor girl with proven learning disability, finds herself unequal to this complex logic and is all ready to snap the first simple instruction that comes her way. And Polonius supplies it:
I charge you: come your ways.
As this simplified the scheme of things for her, Ophelia is vocal in her response
I shall obey, my lord.
With all bowls over, the scene ends here. The scene is also an epigram-dropper’s delight.
On the surface this scene is a clever ploy where the playwright establishes the ground situation, the nature of three principal characters and their opinions all in a very short span of time.
Upon deconstruction, it reveals the liberating cry of a young Stratford lad who has suffered many an avuncular tea.
[tscii:15d92ce9b8][/tscii:15d92ce9b8]