Sorry about the birthday, Will...
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Sonnet 60
10 comments:
Do I detect that number 3 is the gate in the hoarding around the Faraday Building?
You do indeed -- that is the white shuttering I referred to a few posts ago. It's been a fruitful location.
Mike
Those photos are among my favourites.
Frank
Yes, happy birthday, Will. Let's ignore the pretender who is occasionally celebrated on the same day.
You may be interested to know that the word verification today is "rousting" - possibly from Birmingham in origin as in "I'm rousting the potatoes". Which is exactly what I am doing at this moment in time.
Hey, Dave -- I was beginning to suspect you'd done a runner after the spring break...
I should say: Baconians, Oxfordians, Fulke-Grevillians and allied trades are not welcome in this bar. As far as Shakespeare is concerned, it's Small Town Grammar School Boys 10, Public School Aristos 0. Get used to it, chaps (and/or read James Shapiro's "Contested Will").
Although I am watching the developments at the Fulke Greville monument in Warwick with interest (there's clearly something going on there, but I suspect it will turn out to be of more interest to Gay Studies than Eng Lit...)
Mike
No, just out of action for a while what with the Duke of Edinburgh needing me to climb Kinder Scout and camp out in the cold. Meanwhile, back at school - the busiest time of the year (exams looming). . .
Haven't a clue what you guys are going on about, but I like the barrier pics, Mike.
Sorry, Kent, it's all gone a bit British, hasn't it?
The thing about the Fulke Greville monument is interesting, though -- worth a Google.
Mike
Indeed... These kinds of things inevitably add more inconclusives on top of those we already have. But it is interesting that W.S. made no mention of his own writings and what should happen to them in his will.
"it is interesting that W.S. made no mention of his own writings and what should happen to them in his will"
Only from a 20th/21st century perspective, when writing and performing plays is a respectable occupation, and copyright is a major source of income for your descendants. Two of Will's co-authors ran brothels...
The obsession with proving "someone else" (i.e. someone of higher social class, better educated, more widely travelled) is the secret author of those plays has to do with presumptions about social class, plus a revulsion from his parallel capacities as a businessman ("ugh, surely no poet would ever go to court over trade disputes?").
Curiously, Ben Jonson's stepfather was a master bricklayer, and his "classical learning" is not the result of attending a university, but this doesn't seem to trouble anyone.
Mike
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