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monoman1c · 8 months

Note

Act I, Scene 3

Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius.

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laertes. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell. And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you.

Ophelia. Do you doubt that?

Laertes. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

Ophelia. No more but so?

Laertes. Think it no more. For nature crescent does not grow alone In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will; but you must fear, His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; For he himself is subject to his birth. He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state, And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmast'red importunity. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmask her beauty to the moon. Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. The canker galls the infants of the spring Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

SCENE 3 RAHHHH ‼️‼️‼️

#millions warned money saving trick is ruining your wi fi connection – why you should stop now #hamlet anon

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notarealwelder · 2 years

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And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Am I behind on my Early Modern English, or is this just. straightforward sex ed.

#goodness hamlet's fun

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thehamletaesthetic · 3 years

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HAMLET ACT ONE SCENE THREE part one

Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA

Laer.: My necessaries are embark'd: farewell: and, my sister, as the winds give us benefit, and convoy is assistant, do not sleep, but let me hear from you.

Oph.: Do you doubt that?

Laer.: For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor, hold it a fashion and a toy in blood: a violet in the youth of primy nature, forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, the perfume and suppliance of a minute; no more.

Oph.: No more but so?

Laer.: Think it no more: for nature, crescent, does not grow alone in thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, the inward service of the mind and soul grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now; and now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch the virtue of his will: but you must fear, his greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; for he himself is subject to his birth: he may not, as unvalu'd persons do, carve for himself; for on his choice depends the safety and the health of the whole state; and therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd unto the voice and yielding of that body whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, it fits your wisdom so far to believe it as he is his particular act and place may give his saying deed; which is too further than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain if with too credent ear you list his songs, or lose your heart or your chaste treasure open to his unmaster'd importunity. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; and keep within the rear of your affection, out of the shot and danger of desire. the chariest maid is prodigal enough if she unmask her beauty to the moon: virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes: the canker galls the infants of the spring too oft before their buttons be disclos'd; and in the morn and liquid dew of youth contagious blastments are most imminent be wary, then; best safety lies in fear: youth to itself revels, though none else near.

Oph.: I shall the effect of this good lesson keep as watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, do not, as some ungracious pastors do, show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; whilst like a puff'd and reckless libertine, himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, and recks not his own read.

#hamlet #shakespeare #ophelia #laertes #act one #scene three

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dis-am-i-stade · 5 years

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Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,

And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

If she unmask her beauty to the moon:

Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:

The canker galls the infants of the spring,

Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Contagious blastments are most imminents.

Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

#ophelia #hamlet #melancholia #kirsten dunst #shakespeare #lars von trier

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turbomurd3r · 2 years

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It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmaster'd importunity. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon: Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: The canker galls the infants of the spring, Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

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makerof150papermasks · 6 years

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Hamlet Mariofied: Act 1 Scene 3

Bolded names refer to the Mario characters playing the roles. The character role names remain unchanged in the context of the play and its dialogue.

Kamek = Polonius

Larry = Laertes

Wendy = Ophelia

Act I, Scene 3

Elsinore. A room in the house of Kamek.

Enter Larry and Wendy. Cue the first few seconds of the Super Mario Bros 3 boss music, then change to Space Junk Galaxy before Larry begins speaking.

Larry. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.

And, sister, as the winds give benefit

And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,

But let me hear from you.

Wendy. Do you doubt that?

Larry. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,

Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,

Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting;

The perfume and suppliance of a minute;

No more.

Wendy. No more but so?

Larry. Think it no more.

For nature crescent does not grow alone

In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,

The inward service of the mind and soul

Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,

And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch

The virtue of his will; but you must fear,

His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;

For he himself is subject to his birth.

He may not, as unvalued persons do,

Carve for himself, for on his choice depends

The safety and health of this whole state,

And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd

Unto the voice and yielding of that body

Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,

It fits your wisdom so far to believe it

As he in his particular act and place

May give his saying deed; which is no further

Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.

Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain

If with too credent ear you list his songs,

Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open

To his unmast'red importunity.

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,

And keep you in the rear of your affection,

Out of the shot and danger of desire.

The chariest maid is prodigal enough

If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes.

The canker galls the infants of the spring

Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth

Contagious blastments are most imminent.

Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.

Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

Wendy. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep

As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,

Do not as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,

Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads

And recks not his own rede.

Larry. O, fear me not!

[Enter Kamek.] Play Kamek’s Theme from Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island

I stay too long. But here my father comes.

A double blessing is a double grace;

Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

Kamek. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee!

And these few precepts in thy memory

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,

Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

For the apparel oft proclaims the man,

And they in France of the best rank and station

Are most select and generous, chief in that.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

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.

Farewell. My blessing season this in thee!

Larry. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

Kamek. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend.

Larry. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well

What I have said to you.

Wendy. 'Tis in my memory lock'd,

And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Larry. Farewell. Exit. Begin playing the tune to Lost Kingdom.

Kamek. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?

Wendy. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

Kamek. Marry, well bethought!

'Tis told me he hath very oft of late

Given private time to you, and you yourself

Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.

If it be so- as so 'tis put on me,

And that in way of caution- I must tell you

You do not understand yourself so clearly

As it behooves my daughter and your honour.

What is between you? Give me up the truth.

Wendy. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders

Of his affection to me.

Kamek. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl,

Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

Wendy. I do not know, my lord, what I should think,

Kamek. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby

That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,

Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly,

Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,

Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool.

Wendy. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love

In honourable fashion.

Kamek. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to!

Wendy. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,

With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Kamek. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul

Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter,

Giving more light than heat, extinct in both

Even in their promise, as it is a-making,

You must not take for fire. From this time

Be something scanter of your maiden presence.

Set your entreatments at a higher rate

Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,

Believe so much in him, that he is young,

And with a larger tether may he walk

Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia,

Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,

Not of that dye which their investments show,

But mere implorators of unholy suits,

Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,

The better to beguile. This is for all:

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth

Have you so slander any moment leisure

As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.

Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways.

Wendy. I shall obey, my lord.

Exeunt.

#Mario #Hamlet #Shakespeare #Koopalings #Kamek's a daddy #Larry Koopa #Wendy O' Koopa #Kamek

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blossomingbooks · 7 years

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Yes, this week's blossoming book is nothing less than Hamlet by Shakespeare! 🍁 "(...) and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?" 🍁 What fascinated me about Hamlet when I read it for the first time as a 14 year old was mostly the character of Hamlet himself, with all of his psychological intensity. Many years have passed and it has kept its place as my favorite Shakespearean tragedy; but having the opportunity to revisit this play with the #shakeit2017 challenge allowed me to have a brand new look upon it.

For instance, I realized things about the character of Hamlet that had passed me by before. Not only is he much wittier (and sassier) than I remembered, he is also extremely existentialist. This play has such deep philosophical levels that I still don't feel like I've grasped it enough, and I'll eventually have to revisit it again. Hamlet's inability to deal with death and his reflections upon the frailty of human existence are probably the most universal aspect of the play and what makes it so utterly timeless. There is a moment when his mother tells him "all that live must die, / Passing through nature to eternity" but he cannot fathom the concept of death ("How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable/ Seem to me all the uses of this world!"). On his famous speech on act II, scene II we see how disenchanted he is about everything around him: "this godly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory". At the same time, he meditates on the human condition with an almost nihilistic tone, demonstrating the contrast between what men aspire to be and how they behave or what they actually are. This idea is recalled later by Ophelia when she says amid her ravings "we know what we are, but know not what we may be". Hamlet also refers to men as "the quintessence of dust", an expression that really intrigued me by its strongly poetic paradox. "Quintessence" means "the fifth essence" or element, something higher to the other elements, almost sublime. "Quintessence of dust" would then be the highest form of dust; we are the highest form of life and yet this is all we are - something as ephemeral as dust. There is in here a strong absence of God, an existential despair that's way ahead of its time.

These concepts come up again on the famous speech of "to be, or not to be" (which, by the way, I had NEVER thought as being about the idea of suicide - I was mind-blown once I realized how obvious that was). He studies the possibility of ending "the heartache and the thousand natural shocks / That flesh is heir to" by dying, but ultimately dismisses it because of "the dread of something after death, - / The undiscovered country, from whose bourn / No traveler returns". Another thing about Hamlet that I realized by revisiting the play was how (in his own words) "very proud, revengeful, ambitious" he is, cunningly planning his actions and pretending to be mad in order to achieve his end. There is a very interesting quote said by Guildenstern which I think represents Hamlet very well: "for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream" (to which he poetically responds: "a dream itself is but a shadow"). The most recurring theme in this play is, of course, madness, and we can find telltale signs of its tragic ending already on Act I: Horatio warns Hamlet about the ghost of his father, "which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, / And draw you into madness"; whilst Laertes warns Ophelia to be wary because "in the morn and liquid dew of youth / Contagious blastments are most imminent". These two tragic characters actually contrast with each other in a very interesting way; the motif of insanity oscillates between the two of them throughout the play. Firstly it was thought - specially by herself- that Hamlet's apparent madness was caused by Ophelia. That was not the case, his insanity was artificial; but she, in her turn, goes truthfully mad, and in part because of him. In my personal opinion, her lunatic ravings are not only a response to the death of her father but also to the effect of Hamlet's troubled mind and toxic personality shifts on her. Because of this I've always felt that the true tragic character on this play was not Hamlet himself but Ophelia - the most doomed and utterly innocent of all characters. Innocent because she had no part on the madness and wickedness of the men around her, and yet she paid for it. Her madness at the end contrasts with her character at the beginning: lucid, honest and extremely wise. The beautiful imagery of her drowning amid long streams of flowers is so remarkable I could even go further and say that she represents Nature itself, and demonstrates how the violence of mankind wrongs and corrupts its fragile beauty.

I’ll leave you with one more beautiful parallel of Ophelia’s flower imagery. In the beginning, Laertes tells her that love is "a violet in the youth of primy nature, / Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting" - which also seems to be casting a shadow on her tragic ending; and later on she says: "I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died". Ophelia withered in the youth of primy nature, "fantastically dressed with straws and flowers"; and "like a creature native and indued" unto the waters, she transcended the patriarchal universe of the play and became an aesthetic subject and artistic muse for the centuries...

#books #bookstagram #books and flowers #flowers and books #hamlet #shakespeare #hamlet prince of denmark #ophelia #William Shakespeare #shakeit2017 #shakespeare plays #theather #theatre #tragedy #red flowers #autumn

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prophetworthy · 7 years

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The Swamp Angel by Herman Melville

There is a coal-black Angel With a thick Afric lip, And he dwells (like the hunted and harried) In a swamp where the green frogs dip. But his face is against a City Which is over a bay of the sea, And he breathes with a breath that is blastment, And dooms by a far decree. By night there is fear in the City, Through the darkness a star soareth on; There’s a scream that screams up to the zenith, Then the poise of a meteor lone— Lighting far the pale fright of the faces, And downward the coming is seen; Then the rush, and the burst, and the havoc, And wails and shrieks between. It comes like the thief in the gloaming; It comes, and none may foretell The place of the coming—the glaring; They live in a sleepless spell That wizens, and withers, and whitens; It ages the young, and the bloom Of the maiden is ashes of roses— The Swamp Angel broods in his gloom. Swift is his messengers’ going, But slowly he saps their halls, As if by delay deluding. They move from their crumbling walls Farther and farther away; But the Angel sends after and after, By night with the flame of his ray— By night with the voice of his screaming— Sends after them, stone by stone, And farther walls fall, farther portals, And weed follows weed through the Town. Is this the proud City? the scorner Which never would yield the ground? Which mocked at the coal-black Angel? The cup of despair goes round. Vainly she calls upon Michael (The white man’s seraph was he), For Michael has fled from his tower To the Angel over the sea. Who weeps for the woeful City Let him weep for our guilty kind; Who joys at her wild despairing— Christ, the Forgiver, convert his mind.

#southern gothic #herman melville #swamp angel

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leanstooneside · 5 years

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Since before cocky was an egg

TRUE 'T IS PITY; AND PITY 'T

CERTAIN TERM TO WALK THE NIGHT AND FOR THE DAY CONFIN'D TO FAST IN FIRES[1312] TILL THE FOUL CRIMES DONE IN MY DAYS OF NATURE ARE BURNT

ABOVE; THERE IS NO SHUFFLING THERE

NEW HERALDRY IS HANDS

NOBLE MIND IS HERE O'ERTHROWN

MAD 'T IS TRUE: 'T

NATURAL SHOCKS THAT FLESH IS HEIR TO'T

DESPERATE APPLIANCE ARE RELIEVED OR

MOST POTENT GRAVE AND REVEREND SIGNIORS MY VERY NOBLE AND APPROV'D GOOD MASTERS THAT I HAVE TA'EN AWAY THIS OLD MAN'S DAUGHTER IT IS MOST TRUE; TRUE I

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

IMMORTAL PART OF MYSELF AND WHAT REMAINS IS BESTIAL

ROBUSTIOUS PERIWIGPATED FELLOW TEAR A PASSION TO TATTERS TO VERY RAGS TO SPLIT THE EARS OF THE GROUNDLINGS WHO FOR THE MOST PART ARE CAPABLE

POOR NAKED WRETCHES WHERESOE'ER YOU ARE THAT BIDE

GOOD NAME IN MAN AND WOMAN DEAR MY LORD IS THE IMMEDIATE JEWEL

CHARIEST MAID IS PRODIGAL

ALL SENSE DOTH EAT OF HABITS DEVIL IS ANGEL

CALUMNIOUS STROKES: THE CANKER GALLS THE INFANTS OF THE SPRING TOO OFT BEFORE THEIR BUTTONS BE DISCLOSED AND IN THE MORN AND LIQUID DEW OF YOUTH CONTAGIOUS BLASTMENTS ARE MOST IMMINENT

ALL; AND THUS THE NATIVE HUE OF RESOLUTION IS SICKLIED O'ER

ALL NIGHT LONG: AND THEN THEY SAY NO SPIRIT DARES STIR[1271] ABROAD; THE NIGHTS ARE WHOLESOME

GOOD WINE IS A GOOD FAMILIAR CREATURE

HANDYDANDY WHICH IS THE JUSTICE

NATIVE HERE AND TO THE MANNER BORN IT IS A CUSTOM MORE

ORDINARY MEN ARE FIT

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douglascatesrenovatedspirits · 5 years

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I refer here to the utter, blasted, blighted bleakness of being yet haunted by images from a past and a childhood wretchedly immolated and desecrated by greedy, trendy, disrespectful and disrespecting fools! The builders of castles and houses and mansions and villas and even battlemented and circumvallatory chateaus upon the poisoned sands! The erectors of vast, empyreal superstructures and sun-blotting towers and edifices and citadels upon foundations of obvious rottenness. These are those who immolated and extirpated my childhood house, and are currently in the process of defacing and disfiguring my former yard and street and neighborhood with yet another trendy, bland, nondescript, bland and populously preponderant ultra-tacky condominium! Even into the center of heaven have the venomous hordes and soldieries of hell breached, and set ablaze have they the very and fairest City of God! A spoliation do they make of it, the vile devils! The encroachments and inroads and blastments exhaled by open graveyards and the wide-open but hidden gates of hell, these have penetrated into the very deeps and beating heart of the city, my city. They are virulent, and like a disfiguring plague begin to remake all things with which they come in contact in their own vile, hideous image! This is how I feel about the dread scourge of gentrification and the subsequent attempted homogenizing: The attempted remaking of those two river-bounded cities that I know so well into something vaguely Bostonian or New Yorker. Into Portsmouth have these virulent blastments breached and already disfigured and marred much of the original and quaintest splendor of the city, but into even Kittery have the hellish blights and blastments poured-and a vain and utterly inartistic thing provides a modicum of the conduit thereto. Yet, in this year but soon to conclude have I witnessed the demise of my beloved father, and the complete expunction and erasure, the deletion from very existence, of my beloved childhood home. I feel as a hapless peasant waylaid and besieged by Huns, and mine homes and cities razed by same. I feel as if it all were collected and set ablaze, one vast conflagration in which..... https://www.instagram.com/p/Br6m4iQHp8Y/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=q9b1fmgwylvz

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