KB and Willy the poet/playwrite

[Mr Merde]

Lately just listening to some of the threads, opinions and arguements on this board I have been reminded of one of my favourite quotes from play by William Shakespeare.


William Shakespeare, Macbeth, act 5, scene 5

The last 3 lines.

Anyone else here feel the same.

[Disco Dan]

Enlighten me please

I was unfortunate not to have read this yet...

[Big Dave]

Nope.

'Much ado about nothing'.

[koba]

Insomnia! jeez guys get some sleep!

[Big Dave]

Insomnia! jeez guys get some sleep!

Nah - My best work time.

[Mr Merde]

Enlighten me please

I was unfortunate not to have read this yet...

"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. "

[Hitcher]

And Mr W Shakespeare was a "playwright", on the same basis that somebody who makes wheels is a wheelwright, derived from the word "wrought", meaning "exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something". Goodness knows what a "playwrite" does.

Isn't English marvellous? The marauding hordes of illiterati would be oblivious to such eloquent nuance, probably referring to the bard as a "writer of plays". Sigh.

[Mr Merde]

And Mr W Shakespeare was a "playwright", on the same basis that somebody who makes wheels is a wheelwright, derived from the word "wrought", meaning "exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something". Goodness knows what a "playwrite" does.

Isn't English marvellous? The marauding hordes of illiterati would be oblivious to such eloquent nuance, probably referring to the bard as a "writer of plays". Sigh.

Hitcher I thank you for adding to my knowledge of the English language. I find that after all these years of speaking, reading and writing in the language, I still have more to learn.

What a refreshing thought.

[James Deuce]

Also from the Scottish Play, and VERY apt in regard to KB.

"What, you egg! Young fry of treachery"

[ManDownUnder]

Isn't English marvellous? The marauding hordes of illiterati would be oblivious to such eloquent nuance, probably referring to the bard as a "writer of plays". Sigh.

I prefer the comparisons to be drawn between Deer Season... and Tourist Season.

[Hitcher]

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

[Ixion]

And Mr W Shakespeare was a "playwright", on the same basis that somebody who makes wheels is a wheelwright, derived from the word "wrought", meaning "exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something". Goodness knows what a "playwrite" does.

Isn't English marvellous? The marauding hordes of illiterati would be oblivious to such eloquent nuance, probably referring to the bard as a "writer of plays". Sigh.

Tch. It was a typo. He meant playerwight. A wight who plays, upon the stage. As we would say, actordude.

[Mr Merde]

I have,of late, been refreshing a passion for "the Bard".

This has been a life long passion but of late (i.e., the last 25 years) I havent indulged it as I once used to.

My free time at High School was spent in the library, reading the cllected works of William Shakespeare. I loved going to the productions of his plays and to this day enjoy the attempts at modernising such.

How could one man have penned so much and how is it that one can find a quote for any situation in his works.

I appologise if this is a little too far removed from the main themes of this board but surely one must feed the inner person with a little more than wind, noise, petrol fumes and adrenilin rushes occasionally

[Mr Merde]

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

One I am not familiar with.

From whence does it originate?

[Hitcher]

I have,of late, been refreshing a passion for "the Bard".

The English bard. The One True Bard is Robbie Burns.

O Life! how pleasant is thy morning,
Young Fancy’s rays the hills adorning!
Cold-pausing Caution’s lesson scorning,
We frisk away,
Like schoolboys at th’ expected warning,
To joy and play.

[Posted courtesy of the Kiwi Biker Serious Burns Unit]