Romeo & Juliet
The tale of Juliet and her Romeo is more than just a play, it is the very essence and spirit of
young, forbidden love. Can you remember the first time someone broke your heart? No matter how
devastating it might have been, don't you still hold those memories precious and dear and vital?
Doesn't that naïve, hasty, romantic fool you once were seem so excellent to the cynical old grump you
are now? I'll tell you who Romeo & Juliet are: they are the last days of honest romance in a young
man's life, the first days of true love in a girl's. I mean the kind of love where you sit there staring at
each other for hours and hours on end, the kind of love where you feel stirring compassion for the
world, the kind you honestly believe is special and unique to you. The kind that you know no-one else
will ever quite believe how special it was. You know, the first love.
“ My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown and known too late.”
Now make no mistake, despite it all ending in tears, Romeo & Juliet is most certifiably and irrefutably
a romantic comedy. Look at the bozos at the start! Look at the babbling Nurse and the enlightened
Friar! The hopelessly Italian mafioso families and the hilarious, ridiculous, absurd, wonderful and
downright diabolically marvellous Mercutio! It should be noted that true seriousness lies in humour.
In real life, we all make jokes the whole time. Even in the most violent, disturbing, triple academy
award winning four hour war epic it's those little amusing moments between characters that really
build a relationship with the audience. If every single line is snarled with a mean 1940's film noir
accent, special FX popping out of people's ears and not a single realistic or even interesting character
with anything to say, you sit there watching this stuff for two and a half hours then can't even
remember ten minutes of it the next day. Like Troy for instance. It's garbage for the brain, it's
popcorn, bubblegum, it's not what you need to be eating if you intend to get up early the next morning
for your run along the river before your appointments, followed by a late night flight to Monaco, where
you're joining your business partners at a Grand Prix tournament to close a deal that's going to pay
for your grand-children's inheritance –you get me? Shakespeare is. Anyway, in Romeo & Juliet
Shakespeare exploits this empathy we feel for characters who can make us laugh by building up
extravagant hysterias of jokes and knavery, splicing the language with endlessly long, sweeping
romantic sentences. Once we see it in this light - as a romantic comedy - it allows the experience to
become generally more entertaining. It should make us laugh – it's damn funny.
But despite the clear intentions at humour that dominate most of the play, there stand among
those cheerful lines haunting allusions like hooded old boney standing still in a carnival of colourful
motion, unseen by the merry participants all around him, nodding knowingly at us, his marble fingers
outstretched, pointing the way to a shared grave. Among many other things, Romeo & Juliet is also a
matter of destiny, of the guiding forces, of the strumpet fortune that leads some to the highest peak
of Everest and others to the lowest cavern of Hades. Shakespeare juggles the audience's emotions
like flaming swords, hopping from one hand to the other, everybody's intentions shooting around and
colliding with each other amid a fierce melee of rapier wit and desperate measures.
“I defy you, stars!”
Romeo & Juliet offers us a chance to revisit that desperate first love. It dissects the anatomy of the
mind in the meticulous way only Shakespeare can, each sentence striving forward in an unstoppable
montage of humanity's inner-workings. In this play we hold the little life of young romance in the palm
of our hand for just one moment, before it darts away again like a butterfly in the sunshine. Reading
and understanding the passages is treasure for anyone who dares to claim it and as you embark on
this journey be aware that like Merlin and Arthur, Shakespeare is always uttering his incantations
over us, teaching us how to tear the sword from the stone and wield the true power of humanity that
lies within.
I.IV
Verona's streets.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio,
w five or six maskers,
torch-bearers & others
Romeo
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without a apology?
Benvolio
The date is out of such prolixity:
We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance:
But let them measure us by what they will;
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
Romeo
Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Mercutio
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
Romeo
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
Mercutio
You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
Romeo
I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
Mercutio
And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Romeo
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous and it pricks like thorn.
Mercutio
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
Give me a case to put my visage in:
Mercutio is Romeo's crazy friend (You have
been warned: Mercutio is one crazy s-o-b). We
already know Benvolio from the first scene. They
are rolling with a bunch of jokers in masks,
people holding old-school 'fire' torches and
'others', presumably meaning girls as they
definitely arrive with some in the next scene.
They are on their way to the Capulet's masked
ball.
What, will we use this speech as a kind of
excuse? Or do we just go walk up in the party
without an apology?
These days people don't bother with
introductions; we won't have some wannabe
Cupid, wearing a blindfold made from a scarf,
walking around with a (Tartar: ancient Eastern
warrior)'s bow made of (lath: thin measure of
wood ), scaring the ladies like scarecrow; Nor no
memorized story, said in a low voice, prompting
each other on our way in. Let them make of us
what they will. We'll do a little dance with them
and then be gone.
Give me a torch – I don't want to get mixed up in
this song and dance; I'm feeling down so let me
pretend to be one of our torch-bearers.
No, gentle Romeo, you have to dance!
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes with
lively soles (the bottom of a shoe / having a
hearty 'soul' is also essential for a good dance): I
have a soul of lead and it pins me to the ground
so that I cannot move.
You are a romantic – borrow Cupid's wings and
soar with them above the dance.
I am too deeply pierced (by Cupid ) with his arrow
to soar with his light feathers and so wrapped-up
that I cannot even jump a little bit above dull woe.
Under love's heavy burden, I sink.
If you sink in it then you will make love heavy –
too much of a drag for such a delicate thing.
If love be rough with you, be rough with love!
Prick love for pricking and you beat love down.
Give me a case to put my facial expression in:
A visor for a visor! what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
Benvolio
Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
But every man betake him to his legs.
Romeo
A torch for me: let wantons light of heart
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
The game was ne'er so fair and I am done.
Mercutio
Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Of this 'save-reverence' love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
Romeo
Nay, that's not so.
Mercutio
I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits
Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
Romeo
And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.
Mercutio
Why, may one ask?
Romeo
I dream'd a dream to-night.
Mercutio
And so did I.
Romeo
Well, what was yours?
Mercutio
That dreamers often lie.
Romeo
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
A visor (in the sense that a grumpy facial
expression is like a visor) for a visor (in the
sense that he is now putting on a real mask)!
What do I care what curious eye notices my
troubles? Here (on his mask) are eyebrows that
will blush for me.
Come, knock and enter – the second we're in
there every man is free to follow his legs
[wherever or whatever they tell him to do].
I want to be a torch-bearer: let thrill-seekers who
are in a good mood humour their stupid and
sudden ideas with their feet (by dancing). I'm
gonna stick with an old phrase my grandad used
to say; I'll be a good candle-holder and look on ('A
good candle holder proves a good gamester' –
Old English Proverb meaning the person who
watches others play a game will learn to play the
game very well himself ). Because the game was
never so fair (because I have found this perfect
girl Rosaline) I will quit while I'm ahead.
Pshh! Quiet as a mouse, sitting around doing
nothing like a policeman?! If you are done then
we'll pull you up from the bog of this sugar honey
iced-tea love, which you are stuck in up to the
ears. Come, we're not burning fire, we're burning
daylight (wasting time)!
No, that's not right.
I mean, sir, in wasting time we waste our
torches for nothing, like lamps in the day. Take it
for a good meaning for when we show good
judgement it is five times more the amount than
if we used our other five wits just once
(Shakespeare's ' five wits ' are common sense,
fantasy, imagination, estimation and memory).
We have good intentions going to this masked
ball but it is not good judgement to go.
That dreams often lie.
In bed asleep ('lying' in bed), while they do dream
things that are true.
Mercutio
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies
straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she -
O, then I see Queen Mab has been with you
(Queen Mab: a crazy fictional character cooked
up by Mercutio possibly referring to the ancient
word 'madb' for 'mead' which would make a
strong alcoholic drink resulting in deep sleep)!
She is the fairies' midwife (she is the nurse
present when dreams are born) and she is
smaller than the engraved stone on a ring of the
finger of a elderly government official, she comes
with a team of little minions as small as atoms
and goes up men's noses as they lie asleep; her
carriage has wagon-wheels made of spider's
legs, a cover made of the wings of
grasshoppers, the ropes made of the smallest
spider's webs, harnesses made of moonshine's
watery beams; her whip is made of cricket's
bone, the lash made of gossamer; Her wagon
driver is a little insect in a grey-coat, not even as
big as the little worms that grow in unmarried
women's blood. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
made by a carpenter who is a squirrel or an old
beetle, since before time the fairies have been
coach-makers. And in this fashion she gallops
nightly through lover's brains and then they
dream of love; galloping over men of the courts'
knees then they dream of bowing, over lawyers'
fingers, who then dream of their fees, over
ladies' lips so they dream of kisses which often
the angry Queen Mab hurts with blisters
because their breath is tainted with candy.
Sometimes she gallops over a promoter's nose
and then he dreams of smelling out his clients.
Sometimes she comes with a (tithe-pig: pig
intended for payment)'s tail and tickles a
person's nose as they lie asleep and then they
dream of having a second job. Sometimes she
drives over a soldier's neck and then he dreams
of cutting foreign throats, of (breaches: busting
into the enemy camp), of ambushes, Spanish
swords (Toldeo, Spain was famous for making
the best swords in 15th-17th centuries), of
toasts five-fathoms deep (a hell of a lot of wine)
and then soon he hears drums in his ear, at
which he starts and wakes up and being thus
upset swears a prayer or two and sleeps again.
This is that very Queen Mab that braids the
manes of horses in the night (elves are
responsible for matted fur on animals and will
take revenge if it is ruffled) and who tangles up
human hair in the night so that it is messy and
sluttish, which once untangled brings bad luck:
this is the hag, when maids are lying down
sleeping, that presses them and teaches them
to bear heavy weights (like men or pregnancy).
This is she -
othello: the moor of venice
Othello transports us to the sweltering heat of Cyprus, many centuries ago. But we
begin the action in Venice where a local scandal erupts at the high council, where wars are
being negotiated. Othello, one of their most revered and admired generals – a black man –
has reportedly poisoned and seduced the young white maiden daughter of a high ranking
nobleman. To make matters worse for the soldier, the audience is secretly informed that
Othello's right hand man Iago has every intention of stabbing him in the back and
completely ruining him in the most diabolical way he can possibly dream up. Right from the
outset of the play we see this clash ignite the action with a fierce contest of wills and egos.
Shining out with the kind of honest integrity that can only be achieved by a man truly in love
Othello sweeps aside this upset as he tells the unforgettable story of how he came to fall in
love with the girl, Desdemona, finishing his monologue with the beautiful lines “She loved me
for the dangers I had passed and I loved her that she did pity them.” Locked in those words
is the glinting diamond that under great pressure will slowly become crushed by the
cataclysmic treachery and city-crumbling jealousy of Shakespeare's most malevolent villain.
Aside from the fantastic story that it is, I think particularly for the people of London,
the ethnic quality should be appreciated. Shakespeare is nearly two hundred years ahead of
William Wilberforce. It was during Shakespeare's lifetime that England started trading
slaves from Africa, so one might be forgiven for being astounded that such high class
literature could have been in circulation prior to those atrocities which occurred. When
Othello is brought to trial for marrying Desdemona, it is almost as if he is being tried for the
fact he is black rather than the accusation he used drugs and dark magic to seduce her.
Although I do admire Shakespeare for being as confident as to stick that poster up in the
street - so blatantly decapitating racism - I like to think that's it a side-track, a red herring to
trick you into objectively considering another theme which occurs throughout: sexism. It's
almost as if Shakespeare is throwing a diversionary fake pass, by alerting us to the racial
aspect openly then presenting the true nature of the controversy in the dialogue, namely
jealousy and sexism.
I like to think that the “obsidian tower of strength and wisdom” (Geddes & Grosset,
Complete Works ) that is Othello should be cherished for no more the fact he is black than
the fact he is a man or the fact he is a soldier. Basically, I think Shakespeare was not only
so far ahead of the game as to cast this great tragic hero as a black man in a time when
people were still so ignorant but he was actually as far ahead as to say “yeah, I know – get
over it !” Really, Othello has nothing to do with race, once we get past the gruelling trial at
the beginning. I mean, at the end of the day, it cannot be disputed: despite whatever flaws
Othello may possess which lead to his downfall and African as he is, there can be no doubt
he is truly a king among men.
♦
Othello is a very powerful story and once again we must conjure up these potent spirits
within us and watch them all have it out, no matter how gut wrenching that experience may
be. It is a macabre and winding spider-web of deceit yet somehow it retains a precious and
romantic essence that does a lot to make the ordeal of reading it quite rejuvenating and
enjoyable. But tread carefully as you turn these pages, for many vicious tongues and beady
eyes slither through their lines...
V.II
Desdemona's bedchamber:
She, in bed asleep
Othello stands over her, holding a candle
Othello
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul
- Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the cause.
Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the
rose, I cannot give it vital growth again.
It must needs wither. I'll smell it on the tree...
[Kissing her]
Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! One more, one more...
[Kissing her a second time]
Be thus when thou art dead and I will kill thee
and love thee after. One more, and this the last...
[Kissing her once more]
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.
Desdemona
Who's there? Othello?
Othello
Ay. Desdemona.
Desdemona
Will you come to bed, my lord?
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul – Don't
make me say it to you, you chaste stars (chastity
is usually associated with the moon but the point
is that Othello cannot bring himself to name
Desdemona's crime to the pure stellar light of
the universe) – It is the cause ('It is the cause' :
there is much speculation about the meaning of
this opening statement. Most scholars agree
that it is ((as Othello will shortly enlarge upon)) a
declaration of his helplessness in enforcing
justice. But then, I'm sure many actors who
actually played the role had all sorts of things
shoot through their brains when they said these
heartbreaking words). But I'll not spill her blood;
nor scar that skin of hers that is whiter than
snow and smooth as alabaster (alabaster was a
stone typically used to build monuments &
temples). But she must die or otherwise she will
betray more men. Put out the light (his candle)
and then put out the light (of life in Desdemona)
(he is reciting what he must do as though
gathering the nerve to do it): If I quench you, you
minister of flame (if I put you out, you servant of
fire, the candle) I can restore your light again (it
is possible to light the candle again) should I
change my mind: but once I put out your light,
you, the most cunning pattern of amazing nature
(Desdemona), I don't know where that
(Promethean heat : Prometheus stole fire from
the gods and gave it to mankind ) fire is, that can
re-illuminate your light (bring her back to life ).
When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it
vital growth again. It has to wither and die. I'll
smell it on the tree...
[He kisses her as she sleeps]
...ah, soothing breath, that almost persuades
Justice (Othello claims he is not acting out of
anger but rather 'on behalf' of 'Justice' ) to break
her sword (not kill you)! One more (kiss), one
more... [He kisses her again, as she sleeps on
blissfully ignorant] ...If you look like that when you
are dead, I will kill you and love you afterwards.
One more and this is the last...
...so sweet (a person as Desdemona) was never
so deadly. I must cry but they are cruel tears: this
sorrow is heavenly; it (heaven) does strike where
it loves ('The Lord disciplines the one he loves...'
Hebrews, 12:6 ) (Othello has convinced himself
that he is an agent of justice, not a jealous
husband murdering his wife out of spite). She's
waking up...