Saturday, April 25, 2020

Happy Birthday, Shakespeare (April 26)

"Oh then I see! Queen Mab hath been with you!"
Mercutio is one of Shakespeare's most fascinating characters. He's often played, mistakenly, I believe, as a wildly undisciplined, boisterous libertine. He's the opposite. Yes, he does love life, but he's not the indulgent Falstaff. In fact, caution is his plea to Romeo. He is neutral, like his relative, the Prince of Verona. He is both on the invitation list for the Capulet dance, and pals with the Montagues. But Romeo is living in a dream world. Mercutio warns him several times of the dangers of walking the streets in a woolly-headed daze. He knows Tybalt and the Capulets are on the prowl.

His Queen Mab speech, sometimes interpreted as the product of a drug trip, is, rather, a demonstration of the danger of daydreaming. He leads both of his friends into a cautionary tale of a mysterious queen of the fairies who drives her carriage over parts of the body as we sleep, stirring dreams of our particular fancy. Romeo finally cuts him off, saying "You're speaking nonsense", which Mercutio immediately seizes. "Yes! Dreams! Nonsense! Get your head out of the clouds!"

His warning goes unheeded. Romeo later steps into the middle of a fight - a rash breach of protocol that causes Mercutio's death. "Why did you come between us!? A plague on both your "houses"!

The feud will continue. Irresponsible, however well-intended, decisions will bring about the tragic end. Or was it fated in the stars, after all?
John Barrymore as Mercutio and Basil Rathbone as Tybalt in "Romeo and Juliet"
Romeo: I dream'd a dream to-night.
Mercutio: And so did I.
Romeo: Well, what was yours?
Mercutio: That dreamers often lie.
Romeo: (Yes) In bed, asleep, while they do dream things 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 (bauble) on the forefinger of an alderman, drawn by a team of little atomies (teenies) athwart men's noses as they lie asleep.
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs. The (carriage) cover, of the wings of grasshoppers. The (horses') traces of the smallest spider's web, The (horses') 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 (carpenter) 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, who dream on curtseys 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 (candies) tainted are.
(Now Mercutio really revs up into 'dream world')
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 he lies asleep, and then dreams he of another benefice (donation).
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, and then dreams he of cutting foreign throats! Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades!
Of "healths" (toasts) 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 who plats the manes of horses in the night, and bakes the elflocks (tangles) in foul, sluttish hairs which, once untangled, much "misfortune!" bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, who presses them and learns (teaches) them first to bear, making them women of "good carriage". This is she...
Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing!
Mercutio: 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 (fickle) than the wind. Who woos even now the frozen bosom of the North and, being angered, puffs away from thence, turning his face to the dew-dropping South.
"Sometimes she gallops o'er a parson's nose.
And then dreams he of another benefice (donation)!"
( Artwork by George Cruikshank)
And just for the fun of it, imagine Queen Mab racing her team through the night, tagging her subjects with her magic, as you listen to Berlioz's Queen Mab from "Romeo and Juliet."





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