‘Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity…’

It’s Risjaar de modderfokker this week. That speech opening the play on a London street is a killer talking about how good it feels to be a killer. Unashamed evil portrayed friendly-like as with those others Iago, Aaron, Edmund. These characters are the mirrors of the dark side of the soul. We could put them in the same row as Adolf, Saddam, Joseph. It’s a thin line between love and hate.

Compare this:

That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;’

with this:

‘ No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call,
All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more:
Then if for my love, thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest,’

and if you’re thinking, ‘gosh! yes, Richard wooing Anne; Act 1, Scene 2: of The Tragedy of Richard the Third: with the landing of Earle of Richmond, and the battle at Bosworth Field versus Sonnet 40, you are correct. But look here further parallels…

‘Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed.
And when a woman woos, what woman’s son,
Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed.’ Sonnet 41.

compare with:

‘Was ever woman in this humour woo’d?
Was ever woman in this humour won?’ R3.

In fact while we’re comparing similarities in theme between Sonnets try these:

HOw can I then return in happy plight
That am debarred the benefit of rest ?

When day’s oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night and night by day oppress’d.

And each (though enemies to either’s reign)
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.

I tell the Day to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion’d night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild’st th’ even.

But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger. Q28,

versus

WHen most I wink then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected,
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.

Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form, form happy show,
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so?

How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made,
By looking on thee in the living day?

When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade,
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?

All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. Q43

versus

IS it thy will, thy Image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?

Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?

Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenour of thy Jealousy?

O no, thy love though much, is not so great,
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watch-man ever for thy sake.

For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near. Q61.

almost soporific isn’t it? almost 13:31 on this sunday and my secular butt is off for a ciggie. Pathetic habit!