SHAKESPEARE ON JUSTICE In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil?

-Ba.s.sANIO, The Merchant of Venice The Merchant of Venice, 4.2.68 It's obvious from Shakespeare's plays-brimful of legal language, legal principles, lawyers, judges, and trials-that he knew a lot about the law, and one of the most striking details about his life is how large a proportion of the scant record of it consists of legal doc.u.ments. Apparently his intimacy with what Hamlet calls quiddities, quillets, cases, tenures, and tricks-lawyerly arcana-derived from his own lived experience. His name appears on many real estate papers, most having to do with the lease, purchase, and sale of the Globe Theatre and the land on which it stood, and on a mortgage for a property he owned in the City of London. His officially notarized last will and testament survives, in which he leaves his wife his "second best bed," whatever that odd phrase might mean. Surviving court records show that he was the plaintiff in a number of lawsuits, most involving the recovery of debts owed him.

He also testified in a trial or two, including one rather melodramatic case involving a marriage contract that went awry. In the years just prior to his retirement to Stratford, Shakespeare's London address was a spread of rented rooms in the Silver Street home of French immigrants named Christopher and Marie Mountjoy. Mary, their daughter, fell for a young apprentice in Christopher's millinery shop. When he asked for Mary's hand in marriage, Shakespeare, clearly a close friend of the family, officiated at a ceremony in which the young couple formally pledged their troth. The wedding followed, and then, in a twist straight out of one of Uncle Will's plays, the couple's loving relationship imploded in an angry dispute over the size of Mary's dowry. The groom sued, and Shakespeare was summoned to court to swear out a deposition in the matter.

His statement survives, as does his signature on it, one of only six that historians consider authentic. Scholars who've a.n.a.lyzed it claim that it's difficult to miss Shakespeare's displeasure with the whole affair. "Wm Shakspe," he scrawled, scarcely legibly, as though his body was out the door before his hand finished writing, as though he managed only barely to stop himself writing his own famous line from Henry VI, Part II Henry VI, Part II: "The first thing we do let's kill all the lawyers."

POETIC JUSTICE IS THE BEST KIND As consistently and prolifically inventive a wordsmith as Shakespeare was, he could now and then outdo even himself. His finest hours are those famous phrases that still appear in the everyday lexicon of English speakers born four centuries after his death-"it's Greek to me," "the primrose path," "my pound of flesh," "to give the devil his due." Here's another: a Bardism for those very enjoyable moments when some jerk gets his long-overdue comeuppance.

Let it work,For 'tis the sport to have the engineerHoist with his own petard.-HAMLET, Hamlet Hamlet, 3.4.185.4185.6 In other words: Bring it on. It's great fun when a bomb maker is blown sky high by his own device.

Some details: Your edition of Shakespeare may call Hamlet's engineer engineer an an enginer enginer, a spelling that perhaps better conjures the word's Renaissance meaning. An enginer enginer invented and built invented and built engines engines, or mechanical devices, and specifically engines of war, or weaponry. Just a few years before Shakespeare wrote Hamlet Hamlet, some creative enginer whose name has been lost to history created a new gizmo for breaching walls or doors. It was a small case packed with explosive materials under pressure and sealed tight, so that when it was set off, it did serious damage. (Understandably, workplace accidents in enginers' ateliers were common-so much so that Shakespeare could refer to them in a popular play. Whether or not anyone joined Hamlet in finding such mishaps amusing is harder to guess.) This crafty inventor called his creation a petard petard (the final (the final d d is silent), in tribute, I like to think, to his ten-year-old son, because the word comes from the Middle French is silent), in tribute, I like to think, to his ten-year-old son, because the word comes from the Middle French peter peter, which means "to fart." That little piece of information bestows a whole other level of meaning on being hoist with your own petard, but, as Polonius says earlier in the play, "let that go."

LET'S FURTHER THINK ON THIS...Perhaps the least likely Shakespeare quoter I've come across is the so-called twentieth hijacker of 9/11 infamy, Zacarias Moussaoui, a man who was certainly "hoist with his own petard." Throughout his trial in a Virginia federal court, Moussaoui served as his own counsel, and in that capacity he talked and lectured and harangued and grandstanded for months and months. His courtroom monologues were often all but incomprehensible, and his legal moves sometimes bizarre and contradictory. One such was his decision to withdraw his initial guilty plea after consulting various Islamic legal texts. Oddly, though, when he entered his revised plea of not guilty, it was not the Islamic canon he cited. Instead, Moussaoui said this: "Somebody say [sic] to be or not to be, that is the question. And today I say guilty or not guilty, that is the question." The jury say guilty, and now Moussaoui has all the time he'll need to grab a book from the library at the Supermax prison in Florence, Colorado, and learn just who that somebody was who say "To be or not to be, that is the question."

BE MERCIFUL, NOT HARSH Were there a list of the Shakespeare Top Ten, this speech would surely be on it. One of the gems of the Bard's middle period, it is a superb instance of his gift for writing verse that works simultaneously in its dramatic context and also when lifted out of it. In context, it's a plea made by one character that another temper his righteous anger and unrestrained appet.i.te for revenge. Out of context, it's a glorious reminder that justice need not always be harsh, and that compa.s.sion, learned from G.o.d, is one of man's highest values.

The quality of mercy is not strained.It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath. It is twice blest:It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.'Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes 5The throned monarch better than his crown.His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,The attribute to awe and majesty,Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;But mercy is above this sceptred sway. 10It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;It is an attribute to G.o.d himself,And earthly power doth then show likest G.o.d'sWhen mercy seasons justice.-PORTIA, The Merchant of Venice The Merchant of Venice, 4.1.17992 In other words: Mercy is never forced. Instead, it drops gently like rain from heaven. It creates two blessings: it blesses both the person who acts with mercy and also the person who benefits from mercy. And it's most powerful when powerful people exercise it. On a king, it looks better than even his crown. The royal scepter is a symbol of worldly power, it's a feature that's awe-inspiring and majestic, and those qualities are what make a king strong and fearsome. But mercy is a higher sort of power. Its throne is the king's soul. It's a characteristic of G.o.d himself. And worldly power most closely resembles Divine power when mercy moderates stern justice.

How to say it: Use this speech on any occasion when some martinet in your life needs to be reminded that even the strictest rules sometimes need bending. Use it also in any situation that calls for moderation, temperance, and a middle path. (Oh, and should you ever happen to be found guilty of a crime, wheel this out when the judge asks if you have anything to say before sentencing.) Use this speech on any occasion when some martinet in your life needs to be reminded that even the strictest rules sometimes need bending. Use it also in any situation that calls for moderation, temperance, and a middle path. (Oh, and should you ever happen to be found guilty of a crime, wheel this out when the judge asks if you have anything to say before sentencing.) I teach this speech when showing student actors how central the concept of ant.i.thesis is to Shakespearean thought, and how, for artists in the theater, ant.i.thesis refers not only to dictionary opposites but also to ideas whose meanings, though unrelated, are juxtaposed oppositionally by a given speaker. Portia conjures a number of paired concepts, pitted against each other, as she communicates her argument. They include: I teach this speech when showing student actors how central the concept of ant.i.thesis is to Shakespearean thought, and how, for artists in the theater, ant.i.thesis refers not only to dictionary opposites but also to ideas whose meanings, though unrelated, are juxtaposed oppositionally by a given speaker. Portia conjures a number of paired concepts, pitted against each other, as she communicates her argument. They include: not strained not strained versus versus droppeth droppeth (not strict opposites but used in opposition); (not strict opposites but used in opposition); him that gives him that gives versus versus him that takes him that takes (direct opposites); (direct opposites); mightiest mightiest versus versus mightiest mightiest (the same word used as two different parts of speech); (the same word used as two different parts of speech); His scepter His scepter versus versus mercy mercy (two abstract ideas, compared ant.i.thetically); (two abstract ideas, compared ant.i.thetically); earthly power earthly power versus versus G.o.d's G.o.d's ( (power is implied as the object of is implied as the object of G.o.d's G.o.d's, thus two varieties of power are presented as ant.i.thetical), and, most important of all, the speech's major ant.i.thesis, mercy mercy versus versus justice justice (in which the opposition implies that justice is necessarily tyrannical, inflexible, and harsh). As always, stress the terms being compared, and the speech will make instant sense. (in which the opposition implies that justice is necessarily tyrannical, inflexible, and harsh). As always, stress the terms being compared, and the speech will make instant sense. A few key verbs are also crucial to Portia's complex moral argument: A few key verbs are also crucial to Portia's complex moral argument: strained strained, droppeth droppeth, blest blest, blesseth blesseth, becomes becomes, enthroned enthroned, show show, and most powerful of all, seasons seasons. Indeed, that last verb makes line 14 the most important of the whole speech. Portia wants Shylock to know that justice can be qualified, adjusted, toned down, and, by a.n.a.logy with the verb's sense in the context of cooking, enhanced enhanced by being helped with a salty, peppery pinch or two of mercy. by being helped with a salty, peppery pinch or two of mercy. Yet one other approach to this speech is to use the Paper Trick, covering the whole speech with a blank sheet of paper, then revealing it one line at a time as you say it. This will connect you to Portia's thought process, and will help you lay the speech out for your listeners with remarkable ease and clarity. Yet one other approach to this speech is to use the Paper Trick, covering the whole speech with a blank sheet of paper, then revealing it one line at a time as you say it. This will connect you to Portia's thought process, and will help you lay the speech out for your listeners with remarkable ease and clarity.

SHAKESPEARE ON WITTY PEOPLE AND BORES When shall we laugh? Say, when?

-Ba.s.sANIO, The Merchant of Venice The Merchant of Venice, 1.1.66

More of your conversation would infect my brain, -MENENIUS, Coriola.n.u.s Coriola.n.u.s, 2.1.8384 "I am not only witty in myself," Sir John Falstaff announces in Henry IV, Part II Henry IV, Part II, "but the cause that wit is in other men." This outsized self-regard is typical of the Fat Knight, and given how hilarious he is, it's well earned, too. But it's also, in my experience at least, not at all typical of the truly wittiest people I know. My friends with the best funny bones tend also to be expert and thoroughly disarming self-deprecators, and not Falstaffan show-offs. In fact, Sir John excepted, most of the people I've met who are given to incessant p.r.o.nouncements of their own hilarity prove in the end to be notable only in terms of how tiresome they are. On those occasions when a person of one or the other extreme enters your life-seated next to you at a dinner party or in an airplane, giving the keynote at a board meeting or business conference, maybe even on a date-these two Bardisms will prove themselves worth knowing.

THAT'S ONE FUNNY DUDE The word wit wit is in contemporary English almost always linked with humor, and a is in contemporary English almost always linked with humor, and a witty witty person is one whose silver tongue can fire off jokes and light banter with dazzling speed and prolific abandon. In Renaissance English, however, person is one whose silver tongue can fire off jokes and light banter with dazzling speed and prolific abandon. In Renaissance English, however, wit wit described not merely comedic gifts but also-indeed primarily-intellectual prowess overall. One's wit was one's brainpower, one's powers of observation, one's insight, and one's capacity for taking the quickest possible measure of a person or situation. For Shakespeare, wit has yet one more important connotation: it refers not just to the acuity of a person's perceptiveness but also to his capacity for expressing his thoughts about what he perceives in trenchant, keen, and memorable terms. Shakespeare talks about wit in many places in the canon, and he certainly deploys it in large doses. But in one speech in described not merely comedic gifts but also-indeed primarily-intellectual prowess overall. One's wit was one's brainpower, one's powers of observation, one's insight, and one's capacity for taking the quickest possible measure of a person or situation. For Shakespeare, wit has yet one more important connotation: it refers not just to the acuity of a person's perceptiveness but also to his capacity for expressing his thoughts about what he perceives in trenchant, keen, and memorable terms. Shakespeare talks about wit in many places in the canon, and he certainly deploys it in large doses. But in one speech in Love's Labour's Lost Love's Labour's Lost, he provides a pretty good working definition for the concept.

A merrier man,Within the limit of becoming mirth,I never spent an hour's talk withal.His eye begets occasion for his wit,For every object that the one doth catch 5The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,Delivers in such apt and gracious wordsThat aged ears play truant at his tales,And younger hearings are quite ravished, 10So sweet and voluble is his discourse.-ROSALINE, Love's Labour's Lost Love's Labour's Lost, 2.1.6676 In other words: I've never spoken with a cheerier guy (as cheery as good manners allow, anyway). His eyes light on things that activate his sense of humor. And everything his eyes see, his humor converts to some hilarious notion, which his facility with language-the public address system for his humor-p.r.o.nounces. The things he says are so truthful and captivating that mature people neglect their responsibilities just to listen to him. Young people are absolutely swept off their feet by the liveliness and perfection of his rap.

How to use it: Quote this Bardism in tribute to, or by way of introduction to, any wag, wordsmith, or comedian you know. Quote this Bardism in tribute to, or by way of introduction to, any wag, wordsmith, or comedian you know. Some gentle rewrites-of the male p.r.o.nouns to female, or of the third person to the second-will expand the number of occasions on which this piece of Shakespeare applies. An e-mail thanking someone for a great night out? Mention that it was fun because "So sweet and voluble is your discourse." Setting someone up with your hoot of a best girlfriend? "A merrier gal, / Within the limit of becoming mirth, / I never spent an hour's talk withal." Some gentle rewrites-of the male p.r.o.nouns to female, or of the third person to the second-will expand the number of occasions on which this piece of Shakespeare applies. An e-mail thanking someone for a great night out? Mention that it was fun because "So sweet and voluble is your discourse." Setting someone up with your hoot of a best girlfriend? "A merrier gal, / Within the limit of becoming mirth, / I never spent an hour's talk withal." Rely on the pa.s.sage's ant.i.theses to help you through it: Rely on the pa.s.sage's ant.i.theses to help you through it: eye eye versus versus wit wit; the one the one versus versus the other the other; object object versus versus jest jest; catch catch versus versus turns turns; aged ears aged ears versus versus younger hearings younger hearings; play truant play truant versus versus are ravished are ravished.

Some details: Love's Labour's Lost, a play that contributes a handful of Bardisms to this book, is one of Shakespeare's least-produced comedies, which is a shame because it's an absolute delight. Its scarcity on the American stage is understandable, however: almost all of it is written in the vein of Rosaline's speech here. Everyone in the play speaks this kind of rhetorically elevated and formally exquisite language, and the play's many poetic meters, elaborate rhymes, and highly wrought structures ricochet about like the "paper bullets of the brain" Bened.i.c.k discusses in Much Ado About Nothing Much Ado About Nothing. As if all this weren't complex enough, the characters add to the mix ceaseless wordplay, an endless series of literary allusions, and a vocabulary that's as baroque as can be, including the longest single word in Shakespeare: honorificabilitudinitatibus honorificabilitudinitatibus.* This wild stuff comes together to make a kind of word music that's unique in Shakespeare-and devilishly hard for contemporary actors to pull off. This wild stuff comes together to make a kind of word music that's unique in Shakespeare-and devilishly hard for contemporary actors to pull off.

It was also, surely, heavy lifting for Shakespeare's own actors. They had an advantage over their twenty-first-century counterparts, though, because they'd had some experience with this kind of language. John Lyly, an author and playwright almost completely forgotten today, skyrocketed to fame in the 1580s and early 1590s thanks to a series of plays that sound conspicuously like Love's Labour's Lost Love's Labour's Lost. His popular book Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit Euphues, or the Anatomy of Wit lent Lyly's overly decorative and archly self-conscious style its name: euphuism. Around the time Shakespeare first arrived in London, a whole school of Lyly imitators-the so-called euphuists-had taken London's literary scene by storm, and it's no exaggeration to say that had they not so powerfully expanded what was possible for authors to do with the English language, Shakespeare as we know him would not have existed. Most critics read lent Lyly's overly decorative and archly self-conscious style its name: euphuism. Around the time Shakespeare first arrived in London, a whole school of Lyly imitators-the so-called euphuists-had taken London's literary scene by storm, and it's no exaggeration to say that had they not so powerfully expanded what was possible for authors to do with the English language, Shakespeare as we know him would not have existed. Most critics read Love's Labour's Lost Love's Labour's Lost, therefore, as the Bard's deliberate and warmhearted homage to Lyly, and an acknowledgment of the debt the young playwright owed his trailblazing forebear.

THAT'S ONE BORING DUDE Rosaline's eloquent description of a witty man hasn't much of a counterpart on the boredom end of the spectrum. One good reason why not: you don't need the playwrighting ac.u.men of the Bard of Avon to know that boring characters don't really belong on a stage. The heroes of the cla.s.sical dramatic canon are princes, kings, soldiers, and lovers, not CPAs and dentists. Yet Shakespeare knows that boredom and bores have their dramatic uses. Boredom is a way of building antic.i.p.ation in advance of a great event (cf. the French generals bored off their rockers in the great scene that takes place on the night before the climactic battle in Henry V Henry V); bores are wonderful foils for short-tempered men of action who'd sooner die than spend a moment in the company of some droning fool. One such action hero is Hotspur, the aptly named hothead whose rebellion is chronicled in Henry IV, Part I. Henry IV, Part I. Here he complains about the obnoxious verbosity of Owen Glendower, the Welsh warlord, magician, and windbag whom the exigencies of politics have forced him to befriend. Here he complains about the obnoxious verbosity of Owen Glendower, the Welsh warlord, magician, and windbag whom the exigencies of politics have forced him to befriend.

O, he is as tediousAs a tired horse, a railing wife,Worse than a smoky house. I had rather liveWith cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,Than feed on cates and have him talk to me 5In any summer house in Christendom.-HOTSPUR, Henry IV, Part I Henry IV, Part I, 3.1.15560 In other words: Oh, he's as boring as a knackered nag, a nagging wife. He's harder to take than a room full of smoke. I'd rather subsist on the Stinky Food Diet and live in a noisy factory in the middle of nowhere than eat delicacies and live in any Hamptons house in the universe if I'm forced to listen to him him.

How to say it: Use this Bardism to explain to the friends who set you up on a blind date precisely why you won't go out with the guy a second time. Use it to tell your spouse why you don't want to go to dinner with her best friend and her mind-numbing husband. Or change the gender of the p.r.o.nouns and use it to tell your shrink why Marian the librarian just isn't the girl of your dreams. (Should you rewrite the speech so that Use this Bardism to explain to the friends who set you up on a blind date precisely why you won't go out with the guy a second time. Use it to tell your spouse why you don't want to go to dinner with her best friend and her mind-numbing husband. Or change the gender of the p.r.o.nouns and use it to tell your shrink why Marian the librarian just isn't the girl of your dreams. (Should you rewrite the speech so that she she is as tedious as a tired horse, then you might also want to compare her unfavorably to a is as tedious as a tired horse, then you might also want to compare her unfavorably to a snoring husband snoring husband rather than a rather than a railing wife railing wife.) Some details: This speech offer some interesting examples of one of Shakespeare's standard rhetorical devices. He likes to build excitement and energy in his language by grouping ideas in threes and arranging these groupings so that each idea of the three is somehow bigger or more outlandish than the one that came before. Theater artists call these groupings three-part builds three-part builds. We've seen one or two already and observed how they create very flashy effects with great economy.

The first of Hotspur's three-part builds here describes Glendower as harder to endure than (1) a tired horse, (2) a railing wife, and (3) a smoky house. Each image is more extravagant, crazier, and further over the top than the one that comes before. The next three-part build is the content of line 4: Hotspur would rather live (1) on an exclusive (and nasty) diet of cheese and garlic, (2) in a windmill (which would be a very cramped and loud place to live), and (3) in the middle of nowhere. Again, the images get more grandiose as they continue. Finally, Hotspur proposes that this backwoods existence of windmill con formaggio e aglio windmill con formaggio e aglio would be preferable to a life of (1) eating delicacies, (2) listening to Glendower, and (3) living in the loveliest country house in the world. Speaking each of these three-part lists, you can feel their intensity build, and Hotspur's disgust crest, as you continue. Allow each one to have its own little crescendo, and allow the speech as a whole, which is, after all, a three-part build of three-part builds, to heat to a boil as you move through it. would be preferable to a life of (1) eating delicacies, (2) listening to Glendower, and (3) living in the loveliest country house in the world. Speaking each of these three-part lists, you can feel their intensity build, and Hotspur's disgust crest, as you continue. Allow each one to have its own little crescendo, and allow the speech as a whole, which is, after all, a three-part build of three-part builds, to heat to a boil as you move through it.

O, he is as tediousAs a tired horse a tired horse, arailing wife arailing wife,Worse than a smoky house a smoky house. I had rather liveWith cheese and garlic, in a windmill in a windmill, FAR, FAR,Than feed on cates feed on cates and have and have HIM TALK TO ME HIM TALK TO MEIn ANY SUMMER HOUSE IN CHRISTENDOM!!!!!! ANY SUMMER HOUSE IN CHRISTENDOM!!!!!!

SHAKESPEARE ON THANKS For this relief much thanks.

-FRANCISCO, Hamlet Hamlet, 1.1.6 Given the number of life occasions for which Shakespeare provides us just the right words, it seems reasonable to expect that the people for or about whom we say those words might want to requite our efforts with some of their own. Here, then, a handful of Bardisms of grat.i.tude. Use them in speeches, toasts, or as some Shakespeare on the Occasion of Finally Sending that Thank-You Card You've Been Procrastinating About for Too Long.

THANKS A MILLION First, the most basic Shakespearean expression of appreciation: This kindness merits thanks.-PETRUCHIO, The Taming of the Shrew The Taming of the Shrew, 4.3.41 Next, a slightly more elaborate way to put it: I can no other answer make but thanks,And thanks, and ever thanks.-SEBASTIAN, Twelfth Night Twelfth Night, 3.3.1415 Here's some Shakespeare for when you need a moment to figure out exactly the right way to say thank you; this, a promissory message that your grat.i.tude will come in the form of some future good turn: I will pay thy graces / Home both in word and deed.-PROSPERO, The Tempest The Tempest, 5.1.7071 In other words: I will repay your kindness in full, both with words and actions.

Should you feel yourself for some reason unable to express your thankfulness through future recompense, or should you be acknowledging the largesse of someone more well-heeled than yourself, either in material wealth or magnitude of generosity, the Melancholy Dane is ready to pen your Hallmark card: Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you.-HAMLET, Hamlet Hamlet, 2.2.26566 If you need to thank two people, then listen to the plainspoken Vincentio: Many and hearty thankings to you both.-DUKE, Measure for Measure Measure for Measure, 5.1.4 How to use it: Subst.i.tute Subst.i.tute all all for for both both, and you're set to thank a group of any size.

Finally, in case you're moved to up the rhetorical ante and really unfurl a thicket of thanks, a mellifluous merci merci, a doozy of a danke danke, and a goodness-gracious gracias gracias, you can always pick up your trowel and lay on these five lines: For your great gracesHeap'd upon me, poor undeserver, ICan nothing render but allegiant thanks,My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty,Which ever has and ever shall be growing.-CARDINAL W WOLSEY, Henry VIII Henry VIII, 3.2.17579 In other words: In exchange for all the huge kindnesses you've done me-someone who doesn't deserve them-all I can offer is my faithful grat.i.tude. And also my prayers to G.o.d on your behalf. And my devotion, which always has and always will grow greater.

SHAKESPEARE ON APOLOGIES AND FORGIVENESS I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.

-SIR H HUGH E EVANS, The Merry Wives of Windsor The Merry Wives of Windsor, 3.1.7475 Shakespeare stopped writing in 1612, left London for Stratford, and lived there in quiet retirement until his death four years later. His last playwrighting efforts before decamping to the countryside were collaborations with John Fletcher, the popular dramatist fifteen years his junior, who succeeded him as the house writer of his theater company, the King's Men. Scholars differ over how much and which parts of their joint efforts Henry VIII Henry VIII and and The Two n.o.ble Kinsmen The Two n.o.ble Kinsmen Shakespeare wrote, and no one knows how much of Shakespeare wrote, and no one knows how much of Cardenio Cardenio is his, because that play, based on an episode in Cervantes' is his, because that play, based on an episode in Cervantes' Don Quixote Don Quixote, is lost.

Shakespeare's final solo effort was The Tempest The Tempest, written in 1611. It centers on Prospero, the deposed Duke of Milan, who, during his enforced exile on a remote island, has mastered the occult arts and become a magus, or sorcerer, capable of casting spells, conjuring storms, rendering himself invisible, commanding troops of spirit-world minions, and even raising the dead. The play opens with him stirring the t.i.tular tempest and shipwrecking his enemies on his island. With them in his power, Prospero plots revenge. But just as he is about to loose his pent-up rage and inflict a terrible punishment upon them, his better instincts, prodded awake by his sensitive servant Ariel, take over, and he decides that the quality of mercy is indeed not strained: "The rarer action is / In virtue than in vengeance." (Rarer here is synonymous with "more extraordinary," hence, "superior.") p.r.o.nouncing an eloquent "I quit!"-"This rough magic / I here abjure"-he plunges his sorcery books into the sea and breaks his magical staff, renouncing his black art forever and granting forgiveness to those he wanted dead only moments before. here is synonymous with "more extraordinary," hence, "superior.") p.r.o.nouncing an eloquent "I quit!"-"This rough magic / I here abjure"-he plunges his sorcery books into the sea and breaks his magical staff, renouncing his black art forever and granting forgiveness to those he wanted dead only moments before.

Critics who insist on the futility of reading Shakespeare's works autobiographically tend to trip over The Tempest The Tempest. It's impossibly tempting to view Prospero as a Shakespearean self-portrait-he stages performances, he reads voraciously, he has daughter trouble-and to see the Bard's abjuration of his own magic just a year after writing Prospero's as a sure case of his life imitating his own art. Yes, yes, the whole theory may well be nothing more than romantic speculation, but life and art rarely come together this neatly, so what's the harm?

But whether or not The Tempest The Tempest is Shakespeare's self-conscious curtain call (his Swan of Avon song?), it is an indisputable end point, not only of the greatest canon of plays ever written in English but also of a debate that rages throughout the thirty-five plays that came before it. It's a spiritual debate, a philosophical one, an ethical, moral, and existential one. is Shakespeare's self-conscious curtain call (his Swan of Avon song?), it is an indisputable end point, not only of the greatest canon of plays ever written in English but also of a debate that rages throughout the thirty-five plays that came before it. It's a spiritual debate, a philosophical one, an ethical, moral, and existential one. Is virtue in fact preferable to vengeance? Is virtue in fact preferable to vengeance? Hamlet wrestles with the question for five long acts and votes no. Macbeth and Oth.e.l.lo ponder it too, but both men are so addicted to violence that virtue for them is hardly a possibility. Lear's universe comes unmoored from its moral anchors before he can even frame the question coherently. Yet after writing all these plays-all this blood, all this death, all this nihilism-Shakespeare ends his career by writing for Prospero his most Christian line. If it's harmless to read Hamlet wrestles with the question for five long acts and votes no. Macbeth and Oth.e.l.lo ponder it too, but both men are so addicted to violence that virtue for them is hardly a possibility. Lear's universe comes unmoored from its moral anchors before he can even frame the question coherently. Yet after writing all these plays-all this blood, all this death, all this nihilism-Shakespeare ends his career by writing for Prospero his most Christian line. If it's harmless to read The Tempest The Tempest as Shakespeare's farewell to the theater, then I say it's positively uplifting to read the play as his declaration that what the whole thing's all about-all the characters, all the stories, all the ant.i.theses, all the iambic pentameter-is this: Turn the other cheek. Embrace goodness. Issue apologies, and accept them. Love. as Shakespeare's farewell to the theater, then I say it's positively uplifting to read the play as his declaration that what the whole thing's all about-all the characters, all the stories, all the ant.i.theses, all the iambic pentameter-is this: Turn the other cheek. Embrace goodness. Issue apologies, and accept them. Love. Forgive Forgive.

I APOLOGIZE For an all-purpose apology that manages to be gracious and flattering at the same time, here's the Prince of Denmark.

Give me your pardon, sir. I've done you wrong;But pardon't as you are a gentleman.-HAMLET, Hamlet Hamlet, 5.2.16364 How to say it: Transgendered, the lines might read Transgendered, the lines might read ma'am ma'am for for sir sir in line 1, and in line 1, and gentlewoman gentlewoman for for gentleman gentleman in line 2. in line 2.

I FORGIVE YOU This plainspoken line is the great Shakespearean response to apologies simple or elaborate.

I have forgiven and forgotten all.-KING OF F FRANCE, All's Well That Ends Well All's Well That Ends Well, 5.3.9 Some details: This Bardism always reminds me of the actress Irene Worth. Born in a tiny Nebraska town, she went on to become one of the grandes dames of the twentieth-century British and American stage. (She changed her name from Harriet Elizabeth Abrams and p.r.o.nounced Irene with three syllables: i-REE-nee i-REE-nee. The theater is a place of all sorts of transformations.) I had the honor of working with her only once, at a benefit evening in which celebrity actors-Kevin Kline, Sigourney Weaver, Christopher Walken, Robert Sean Leonard, and others-read Shakespeare's sonnets. At one rehearsal an actor in the group worked through Sonnet 60, which begins: Like as the waves make toward the pebbled sh.o.r.e,So do our minutes hasten to their end;Each changing place with that which goes before,In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

Ms. Worth sat nearby, listening. She walked over to the actor and said, in her seismically resonant, British-inflected voice, "Darling, just do this: always always stress the word stress the word all all." When Irene Worth said the word all all, it really was all-the sun, the moon, the stars; yesterday, today, and tomorrow; everything in G.o.d's creation. Ms. Worth wasn't saying that all all should sound grand. She was saying that the breadth and size of the idea the word communicates cannot be ignored or given short shrift. The Bardism that organizes this book makes her case- should sound grand. She was saying that the breadth and size of the idea the word communicates cannot be ignored or given short shrift. The Bardism that organizes this book makes her case-All the world's a stage / And the world's a stage / And all all the men and women merely players-as do these others: the men and women merely players-as do these others: How all all occasions do inform against me... occasions do inform against me...He was a man, take him for all all in in all all,I shall not look upon his like again.All my pretty ones? my pretty ones?Did you say all all? O h.e.l.l-kite! All All?What, all all my pretty chickens and their dam my pretty chickens and their damAt one fell swoop?*

Remember Irene Worth. Always stress all all.

SHAKESPEARE ON PARTIES Good company, good wine, good welcome Can make good people.

-GUILDFORD, Henry VIII Henry VIII, 1.4.67 We established at the opening of this chapter that the rotund Justice who stars in Jaques' Fifth Age enjoys a good meal. He also likes to opine about every subject under the sun. Add a cigar or pinch of snuff and a snifter of brandy or gla.s.s of port and you've got yourself one middle-aged party animal. Despite the fact that this fifty-something frat boy appears in As You Like It As You Like It, he'd feel at home in any of the dozen or so Shakespeare plays in which the Bard includes a party scene. Romeo and Juliet Romeo and Juliet gets rolling with one; gets rolling with one; The Taming of the Shrew The Taming of the Shrew ends with one. Mark Antony gets drunk at one; Ca.s.sio gets blotto at one. Beatrice and Bened.i.c.k flirt at one; Timon gets his revenge at one. Henry VIII meets his wife at one; he then meets another wife at another one. ends with one. Mark Antony gets drunk at one; Ca.s.sio gets blotto at one. Beatrice and Bened.i.c.k flirt at one; Timon gets his revenge at one. Henry VIII meets his wife at one; he then meets another wife at another one.

Shakespeare's parties feature all the energy, spontaneity, fun, and unexpected drama that we find in real-life gatherings and celebrations. That means that for we band of brothers (and sisters) who, four hundred years on, continue to turn to our Complete Works Complete Works for words to suit the occasions of our lives, there is in that volume a splendid a.s.sortment of Bardisms for every party we throw, attend, or even bolt. Below, the highlights. for words to suit the occasions of our lives, there is in that volume a splendid a.s.sortment of Bardisms for every party we throw, attend, or even bolt. Below, the highlights.

LET'S PARTY!

Just prior to setting out for Alexandria and his final showdown with his mocking and disrespectful enemy, Octavius Caesar, Mark Antony decides to throw a big going-away blowout for his men, himself, and Cleopatra. His clarion call to his fellow revelers is a forerunner of the cla.s.sic Animal House Animal House chant of "To-GA! To-GA! To-GA!" chant of "To-GA! To-GA! To-GA!"

Come,Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to meAll my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more.Let's mock the midnight bell.-ANTONY, Antony and Cleopatra Antony and Cleopatra, 3.13.18486 In other words: Come on! Let's party hearty one more night. Gather all my serious-minded friends. Pour some wine again, and let's stay up all night!

How to use it: Any of the short sentences that make up this speech could serve as the headline to a party invitation, or the subject line of an e-vite to this weekend's big debauch. I always hear in Antony's call to "mock the midnight bell" my own childhood joy at being given permission on New Year's Eve to stay up past twelve, so I've recommended that pa.s.sage to friends planning all-night revelry. Any of the short sentences that make up this speech could serve as the headline to a party invitation, or the subject line of an e-vite to this weekend's big debauch. I always hear in Antony's call to "mock the midnight bell" my own childhood joy at being given permission on New Year's Eve to stay up past twelve, so I've recommended that pa.s.sage to friends planning all-night revelry. This is not a speech for the faint of heart. It's big and boisterous-the full-throated cry of a man who's clambered up onto the bar to announce to everyone that drinks are on him. This is not a speech for the faint of heart. It's big and boisterous-the full-throated cry of a man who's clambered up onto the bar to announce to everyone that drinks are on him.

Some details: Antony wants his bowls bowls filled because such were the vessels from which wine was drunk in the Renaissance. In addition to those, Shakespeare's characters drink wine from filled because such were the vessels from which wine was drunk in the Renaissance. In addition to those, Shakespeare's characters drink wine from stoups stoups (i.e., tankards), (i.e., tankards), chalices chalices (i.e., goblets), and (i.e., goblets), and cups cups, but never from gla.s.ses, as we do today. This may be because the Jacobean world was a lot less genteel than our own and preferred a major guzzle to a dainty sip. But it may also be because Renaissance wine was not quite the quality beverage we imbibe today. Jacobean oenophiles routinely did things no connoisseur today would dream of: mix sugar into their wine, dip toast into it like donuts into coffee, float chopped fruit in it, or heat it to steaming. Preparations like these called for containers suited to heavier duty than crystal stemware.

LET'S FURTHER THINK ON THIS...When Fleetwood Mac was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Mick Fleetwood summoned the band onstage to perform their hit "Say You Love Me" by crying, "If music be the food of love, play on!"-the opening line of Twelfth Night. Twelfth Night. There's not another livin' soul around who didn't think it was a superb Shakespearean shout-out. There's not another livin' soul around who didn't think it was a superb Shakespearean shout-out.

WELCOME TO MY SHINDIG!

Once the invitations have gone out and the RSVPs have been counted, the host's next public duty is to extend a gracious welcome to his guests. Here are three Bardisms for the job. First: You're welcome, my fair guests. That n.o.ble ladyOr gentleman that is not freely merryIs not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome,And to you all, good health!-CARDINAL W WOLSEY, Henry VIII Henry VIII, 1.4.3639 In other words: My gorgeous guests, welcome! Any lady or gent who's not up for a good time is no friend of mine. I raise this gla.s.s as proof of my welcome, and I drink to your health!

How to use it: This at the midpoint of line 3 is what's known as an at the midpoint of line 3 is what's known as an index word. index word. It indexes, or indicates, or points to, some specific thing. Here, It indexes, or indicates, or points to, some specific thing. Here, this this refers to the gla.s.s (or bowl, or stoup, or cup) that you're raising to your guests. This Bardism is therefore ideal for that moment during the party when the host rises to thank everyone for coming, and to instruct everyone to have a ball. refers to the gla.s.s (or bowl, or stoup, or cup) that you're raising to your guests. This Bardism is therefore ideal for that moment during the party when the host rises to thank everyone for coming, and to instruct everyone to have a ball. The four monosyllables that begin line 3 are the center of the speech. Let each one ring out, but in good humor-you don't really mean that you're going to end your friendship with anyone who's a downer at your party. It's playful hyperbole. The four monosyllables that begin line 3 are the center of the speech. Let each one ring out, but in good humor-you don't really mean that you're going to end your friendship with anyone who's a downer at your party. It's playful hyperbole.

Second, if your gathering features food, you can rise and offer this Shakespearean bon appet.i.t bon appet.i.t, as Cardinal Wolsey does in Henry VIII Henry VIII just a few dozen lines after welcoming his guests with the lines above. just a few dozen lines after welcoming his guests with the lines above.

A good digestion to you all, and once moreI shower a welcome on ye-welcome all.-CARDINAL W WOLSEY, Henry VIII Henry VIII, 1.4.6264 Third, Cardinal Wolsey's party in Henry VIII Henry VIII is a very posh affair. The scene's stage directions specify that there are multiple tables, including one very long one; dinner takes place "under the cloth of state," or royal insignia of the king; there's music, supplied by "hautboys" or oboes, as well as a "drum and trumpet"; and cannon fire accompanies the arrival of the most prominent guests. Don't despair if your party isn't quite so grand. is a very posh affair. The scene's stage directions specify that there are multiple tables, including one very long one; dinner takes place "under the cloth of state," or royal insignia of the king; there's music, supplied by "hautboys" or oboes, as well as a "drum and trumpet"; and cannon fire accompanies the arrival of the most prominent guests. Don't despair if your party isn't quite so grand.* Instead, remind your guests that your parsimonious provisioning needn't mean they'll have a bad time: Instead, remind your guests that your parsimonious provisioning needn't mean they'll have a bad time: Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.-BALTHAZAR, The Comedy of Errors The Comedy of Errors, 3.1.26 In other words: As long as you provide a warm welcome, you can have a fab party even without an elaborate spread.

DON'T TELL ME WHAT FUN I CAN AND CAN'T HAVE It's inevitable that wherever there's a celebration, there's some stiff who wants to shut it down. Here's Shakespeare for the Jerk Who Harshes Your Buzz.

Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?-SIR T TOBY, Twelfth Night Twelfth Night, 2.3.1034 In other words: Do you really believe that just because you don't like parties, no one else should be allowed to have a good time?

How to say it: This is Shakespeare's great cry of "Who the h.e.l.l do you think you are?!" Use it when your downstairs neighbor starts pounding on his ceiling with a broom to get you to stop Riverdancing with your friends. Wheel it out, too, for any stick-in-the-mud who believes his way is superior to yours, and for every know-it-all who would restrict you with her self-imposed rules and regulations. This is Shakespeare's great cry of "Who the h.e.l.l do you think you are?!" Use it when your downstairs neighbor starts pounding on his ceiling with a broom to get you to stop Riverdancing with your friends. Wheel it out, too, for any stick-in-the-mud who believes his way is superior to yours, and for every know-it-all who would restrict you with her self-imposed rules and regulations. The line calls for some serious scorn. To find it, stress the second The line calls for some serious scorn. To find it, stress the second thou thou, and put virtuous virtuous in the most dismissive, ironic quotation marks you can. To get a feel for the power of Sir Toby's famous citation of in the most dismissive, ironic quotation marks you can. To get a feel for the power of Sir Toby's famous citation of cakes and ale cakes and ale as the ultimate in sensual pleasures (and where would Somerset Maugham be without it?) subst.i.tute your favorite gustatory indulgence-the more decadent, the better-then multiply it by one hundred. Despite their many resemblances, Sir Toby is not Homer Simpson (although they both like to burp a lot-indeed, as the ultimate in sensual pleasures (and where would Somerset Maugham be without it?) subst.i.tute your favorite gustatory indulgence-the more decadent, the better-then multiply it by one hundred. Despite their many resemblances, Sir Toby is not Homer Simpson (although they both like to burp a lot-indeed, Belch Belch is Toby's last name), and he's talking about more than just donuts and beer. is Toby's last name), and he's talking about more than just donuts and beer. Cakes and ale Cakes and ale means every one of life's pleasures, from the simple to the sublime. Toby's fury arises from his disbelief that anyone would dare force him to rein in his hedonistic appet.i.tes. means every one of life's pleasures, from the simple to the sublime. Toby's fury arises from his disbelief that anyone would dare force him to rein in his hedonistic appet.i.tes.

Some details: Thou in Sir Toby's line refers to Malvolio, his nemesis, and the steward, or servant-in-chief, at Toby's niece Olivia's house, the stately home where Toby lives. Three times in in Sir Toby's line refers to Malvolio, his nemesis, and the steward, or servant-in-chief, at Toby's niece Olivia's house, the stately home where Toby lives. Three times in Twelfth Night Twelfth Night, Malvolio is called a "Puritan." Modern audiences hear the label as a description of Malvolio's dour personality, and indeed in his joyless demeanor and fervent opposition to frivolity of any kind, he is puritanical. But Shakespeare's audience understood the word differently. For them, "Puritan" was a relatively new label for a strain of Protestantism that believed in strict religious discipline, and the reform of Church of England doctrine and ritual in the direction of severity and simplicity. The word thus had a distinctly derisive strain, and it was used by mainstream Protestants as a cudgel to marginalize what they regarded as a growing threat.

And what a threat it turned out to be. In 1600, when Twelfth Night Twelfth Night was written, the Puritans may have been nuisances, Malvolio-like party p.o.o.pers, but a mere four decades later, they would be revolutionaries whose political and economic power would overthrow the English monarchy, plant the seeds of the governmental system that rules the United Kingdom today, and, not incidentally, export to the New World many of the political thinkers who would sire the United States of America. As a character in a play, Sir Toby has ample reason to despise Puritans: they loathed the theater-fulminated against it, in fact-and in one of their first acts upon seizing power in 1642, they shut down London's theater industry. The fifteen words of this one line of Toby's suggest that Shakespeare saw it coming. With the eerie foresight that great playwrights often display, he captured here what was really the central political story of England in his generation: the mighty struggle for power between the Puritans and their adversaries. was written, the Puritans may have been nuisances, Malvolio-like party p.o.o.pers, but a mere four decades later, they would be revolutionaries whose political and economic power would overthrow the English monarchy, plant the seeds of the governmental system that rules the United Kingdom today, and, not incidentally, export to the New World many of the political thinkers who would sire the United States of America. As a character in a play, Sir Toby has ample reason to despise Puritans: they loathed the theater-fulminated against it, in fact-and in one of their first acts upon seizing power in 1642, they shut down London's theater industry. The fifteen words of this one line of Toby's suggest that Shakespeare saw it coming. With the eerie foresight that great playwrights often display, he captured here what was really the central political story of England in his generation: the mighty struggle for power between the Puritans and their adversaries.

CHAPTER 6

The Lean and Slippered Pantaloon

SHAKESPEARE FOR THE OCCASIONS OF OLD AGE The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.

Hearing testimony, weighing precedent, reviewing case law, and handing down verdicts, the Justice of Jaques' Fifth Age lives life at a sedate, deliberative pace. No surprise there: with an all-you-can-eat buffet of good capon at his constant disposal, and an inexhaustible supply of old saws and modern instances ready for p.r.o.nouncement across the dinner table, why should he hurry? Instead he ambles and meanders, just as middle age, the phase of life he represents, often fills a long stretch, perhaps even lasting a few decades. The Justice presses pause on Time's shuffling iPod, and if life is indeed an (Elizabethan) cabaret, old chum, then the Fifth Age is its intermission.

Intermission is a theater term, of course: the pause between acts of a play. Jaques says the Sixth Age is a theater term, of course: the pause between acts of a play. Jaques says the Sixth Age shifts shifts into place, and that's a theater term, too. On its surface, the word's meaning, something like "moves or transfers from one place or state to another," is obvious enough-it has a physical, material aspect suggesting the bodily changes that happen between middle and old age. But in the theater, a "shift" is a change of scenery, a rearrangement of props, furniture, and other bits and pieces, that moves or transfers the action of the play from one place to another, and that carries the story, and the audience, forward into the next series of events. into place, and that's a theater term, too. On its surface, the word's meaning, something like "moves or transfers from one place or state to another," is obvious enough-it has a physical, material aspect suggesting the bodily changes that happen between middle and old age. But in the theater, a "shift" is a change of scenery, a rearrangement of props, furniture, and other bits and pieces, that moves or transfers the action of the play from one place to another, and that carries the story, and the audience, forward into the next series of events.

This theatrical sense of "shifts" builds on the metaphoric line that Shakespeare-okay, Jaques-develops from the beginning of the Seven Ages speech through its end: the world is a stage; the men and women, actors who exit and enter; and each age, a role to be performed. The Justice, just prior to the scene shift into Age Six, "plays his part," and when he finishes delivering his lines, stagehands emerge from the wings, shift some stuff about, and-presto!-a new scene, and a new Age of Man, begins. Its star, like those of the five preceding scenes, is a human type we recognize, but this time, he bears no generic label such as infant, schoolboy, lover, soldier, or justice. This time, his label is specific, a brand name, the moniker of a figure from-wouldn't you know?-the theater itself. The Sixth Age's seismic shift lurches it into the time of the pantaloon, il pantalone il pantalone.

Il pantalone is a stock character in the Italian is a stock character in the Italian commedia dell'arte commedia dell'arte, the popular, semi-improvised comic theater tradition that evolved in sixteenth-century Venice and endured for over two hundred years. Derived from previous vernacular entertainments, especially the New Comedy of ancient Rome, the commedia commedia was all the rage in Italy and well enough known in Renaissance England that its character types appear in comedies by most of the major playwrights of the day. Some even show up as the dramaturgical skeletons on which the personalities of the others of Shakespeare's Seven Ages avatars are built: was all the rage in Italy and well enough known in Renaissance England that its character types appear in comedies by most of the major playwrights of the day. Some even show up as the dramaturgical skeletons on which the personalities of the others of Shakespeare's Seven Ages avatars are built: commedia commedia's innamorato innamorato is the lover, sighing and silly; is the lover, sighing and silly; il capitano il capitano, the swaggering military man with more bl.u.s.ter than bravery; and il dot-tore il dot-tore, the doctor, the learned, self-serious, middle-aged gasbag.*

But while Jaques-okay, Shakespeare-certainly has that group of characters in mind in this speech, the only one he names and describes in perfect Italianate detail is il pantalone il pantalone. In the cla.s.sic commedia commedia scenarios, scenarios, il pantalone il pantalone is always old, and usually withered or otherwise infirm. He always wears slippers, sometimes eyegla.s.ses, and generally carries a pouch, whose contents he jealously guards, usually by hunching over it in a bent-knee, curved-spine posture that makes him look even older than he is. With his traditional red hose, black cape, and mask with a huge hooked nose, is always old, and usually withered or otherwise infirm. He always wears slippers, sometimes eyegla.s.ses, and generally carries a pouch, whose contents he jealously guards, usually by hunching over it in a bent-knee, curved-spine posture that makes him look even older than he is. With his traditional red hose, black cape, and mask with a huge hooked nose, il pantalone il pantalone is quite a sight. He's the very stereotype of crotchety, dyspeptic old age. is quite a sight. He's the very stereotype of crotchety, dyspeptic old age.

I suppose by now I needn't point out that the pantaloon is also an utter fool. (He wouldn't feature so prominently in this speech chock-full of folly if he were a man of wisdom and perspicacity.) His main folly: an unholy devotion to filling his pouch with cold cash. His isn't any garden-variety cheapness. No, it is instead a miserliness so hardcore that it flouts the desires of every other character in every story the pantaloon appears in, and thus becomes the engine that drives the entire commedia commedia form. form. Il pantalone Il pantalone won't part with a penny-not to his underpaid and overworked servant, won't part with a penny-not to his underpaid and overworked servant, arlecchino arlecchino (aka the motley-wearing clown, Harlequin); not to (aka the motley-wearing clown, Harlequin); not to il capitano il capitano, who'd like to borrow a couple of bucks so he can grab a bite to eat after a hard day of vanquishing enemies; and most definitely not to his handsome ward, the innamorato innamorato, who needs some dough in order to make headway with his innamorata innamorata. Such a tightwad is the pantaloon that he'd rather make do with worn-out old possessions than spend any coin on new gear. Hence the "well-saved" hose from his younger years: they may be way too big for him in his shriveled old age, but he isn't about to part with capital for something as frivolous as legwear that actually fits. Piping and whistling his way through complaints, irritations, and a.s.sorted senior moments, the pantaloon is as c.o.c.kamamie-and as noisy-as any of the other dramatis personae who populate Jaques' morose and tedious teatrum mundi teatrum mundi.

And yet, I can't hear Jaques paint his word portrait of the preposterous pantaloon and his baggy trousers that flap in the wind without thinking of an image of an entirely different nature. A few summers ago I tuned into CNN to watch its coverage of the sixtieth anniversary of D-Day and the Allied invasion of Normandy. By then, the ranks of surviving veterans-never large to begin with, given the staggering carnage of that ferocious battle-had thinned, and those happy few of the Greatest Generation who'd made the pilgrimage to Omaha Beach were in their seventies, if not older. Some had spectacles on their noses, some carried pouches on their sides: bags containing cameras, pa.s.sports, and the other trappings of international travel and ceremonial commemoration. Some spoke to reporters, and yes, it was plain to hear how the timbre of their once manly voices was now noticeably squeaky and reedy. But what caught my eye and lumped my throat was this: many of these well-saved Private Ryans insisted on walking those famous French sands in the very uniforms they'd worn there six decades earlier. Their shanks were shrunken now, to be sure, and their government-issued combat fatigues were at least one world too wide. But these men were no pantaloons, no foolish dotards. Quite the contrary: they were conquerors. Applied to them, Jaques' patronizing language took on another dimension, and Shakespeare, out of context and remembered on an occasion he could neither imagine nor intend, elicited not laughter and derision but admiration, sympathy, deference, and warmth.

Jaques' Sixth Age imagery requires more words than any of the five before it or the one after it. Its text is full of alliteration (shrunk shank, world wide world wide), ant.i.thesis (manly versus versus childish childish), and even rhyme (side and and wide wide). Its music plays the same symphony of atonal asininity that Jaques conducts so masterfully from the instant he gives the downbeat of "All the world's a stage." Its tone, however, stakes out new territory. There may be an unmistakable foolishness about the old, cheapskate pantaloon, but there's a sadness about him, too. There's a sense of lost vitality and irretrievable youth, of a life with fewer sunrises ahead than sunsets behind, of physical malady and spiritual malaise, and of an end drawing ever more rapidly near. The Sixth Age, that is, is the age of wistfulness. Its substance is reminiscences, valedictories, and, alas, hospitals. It's a time of observing, taking stock, and watching the clock wind down to stillness. The pantaloon is cranky and parsimonious, but he's got a perfect excuse: how else to fill all the time he must spend waiting, waiting?

Of the pantaloon and what's on his mind, Shakespeare has much to say, and he says it in the Bardisms collected in this chapter.

SHAKESPEARE ON OLD AGE I am old, I am old.

-FALSTAFF, Henry IV, Part II Henry IV, Part II, 2.4.244 In a surprising pa.s.sage midway through Henry VI, Part II Henry VI, Part II, King Henry fantasizes about the life he might have led had he been born a regular Joe instead of le roi le roi. He imagines himself a "homely swain" (i.e., a simple shepherd), and contrasts the responsibilities and worries of leadership-paranoia about disloyal underlings, the burdens of statecraft and warfare-with a shepherd's far less stressful preoccupations: tending the flock, shearing their woolen coats in springtime, sitting around and meditating, taking a nap. In the end, Henry concludes, the shepherd's peaceful existence "would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave."

But the king never reaches the white-haired time of life, and he goes to his grave in tumult, not quiet. Such is the fate of most of Shakespeare's kings, and for that matter, most of his senior citizens, and with good reason: the shepherd's senior years may be pleasant and calm, but who would want to watch a play about them? The turbulent dotages of Lear and Gloucester, Falstaff, Polonius, Prospero, and dozens of other characters provide Shakespeare the stuff of memorable drama. For these figures, old age is a time of yearning for an ease and grace that they sorely desire, but that events stubbornly refuse to provide. Still, the Bard grants to a handful of his eminences grises a moment of respite in which to frame their advanced age with a consoling sense of acceptance, and in at least one case, a proud sense that geriatric needn't mean defunct. Shakespearean superannuation is no picnic, but at least it's good for a few comforting turns of phrase.

WE WERE YOUNG ONCE UPON A TIME Here are some Bardisms for those sepia-toned moments when a mournful nostalgia warms the heart and mists the eyes. First, a lament about how the years separate one from joys fondly remembered: Where is the life that late I led?-PETRUCHIO, The Taming of the Shrew The Taming of the Shrew, 4.1.121 Next, a mournful admission that one's mortal coil seems no longer to shuffle off to Buffalo with quite the energy it once did: You and I are past our dancing days.-CAPULET, Romeo and Juliet Romeo and Juliet, 1.5.29 And then, two sparkly-eyed reminiscences about tripping the light fantastic back in the day: Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent!-SHALLOW, Henry IV, Part II Henry IV, Part II, 3.2.2930We have heard the chimes at midnight.-FALSTAFF, Henry IV, Part II Henry IV, Part II, 3.2.197 How to use them: These brief lines are well suited to a toast to bygone times, or when reminiscing about past fun with friends and family, or for commiserating with a pal about the slower pace of life's later chapters. These brief lines are well suited to a toast to bygone times, or when reminiscing about past fun with friends and family, or for commiserating with a pal about the slower pace of life's later chapters. Petruchio's Petruchio's late late means "lately," or "once upon a time"; Shallow's means "lately," or "once upon a time"; Shallow's Jesu Jesu-a term he uses interchangeably with Jesus Jesus-is p.r.o.nounced JAY-zoo JAY-zoo.