Seven Tears Into the Sea
Phantom Stallion Series
Thursday, September 22, 2005
SHAKESPEARE ROCKS (and he liked horses!)
I'm not saying I freaked out, or ran screaming through my house, scaring cats, dogs, tropical fish and wishing I could be back in the classroom with the reader who wrote me saying she hated learning Shakespeare. But, uh, well, I WAS kind of upset.
I love reading, watching and teaching Shakespeare.
"Romeo and Juliet", "Merchant of Venice" and "Othello" tell you everything you need to know about love, intolerance, jealousy and more. "Hamlet", "MacBeth" and "Julius Caesar" are filled with characters so real you know them (some you don't want to, but still). His plays have weird supernatural stuff (telling the future by "reading" an animals intestines?)and are up-to-the-minute on politics. Plus, the man wrote 100's of years ago & still makes people laugh and cry!
And he liked horses. Legend says when he was a teenager, in pre-writer days, he made money by watching rich folks' horses while they were chowing down at the inns. It's been suggested that it was an extortion racket ("Gee, it would really be too bad if your horse got loose -- " wink wink ). I guess that's possible. Young Shakespeare wasn't a guy your parents would have wanted you to hang around with.
Anyhow, I've excerpted this bit from a poem (Don't sweat the language; if you like horses, you'll get it) in which a riding horse (clearly a stallion)is tied up and waiting for his master when he spots a flirty mare in the woods.
"... forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he
...he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder...
The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.
His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end;
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire.
Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majesty and modest pride;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps...
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?...
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees...
Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather...
Through his mane and tail the high wind sings...
He looks upon his love and neighs unto her;
She answers him as if she knew his mind
...He veils his tail..like a falling plume...
He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he is enraged,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged..."
The dot-dot-dots mean I've cut something out. You'll have to read "Venus and Adonis" to see it all!
Permalink to this blog post
Posted by Terri Farley @ 5:18 PM
Comments: Post a Comment