The Destruction of Time

A Response to Sonnet XIX by William Shakespeare

 

Shakespeare’s Sonnet XIX talks about Time’s ability to destroy beauty. The capital ‘T’ in Time means that it is a sentient being: “Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws” (1). Here, Time dulls nature; in fact, the word “devouring” implies an animalistic consumption. It consumes with no remorse for the destruction that it causes or the lives it ruins. Shakespeare uses incredibly active verbs (e.g. “blunt”; “pluck”; “burn”), but Time is a suspiciously absent subject. It is the implied subject of those imperative verbs—even the first verb, “blunt,” is separated from “Time” by a comma. This grammatical detachment of agent and action mimics the invisibility of Time—an unseen force responsible for so much destruction.

The speaker’s dominance is first evident in those imperative verbs—he commands Time. The first indicative verb the reader sees is “forbid” whose subject is “I.” This also serves to make the speaker appear to have more immediate power than Time; the speaker’s power is more immediate because he, the agent, is connected to his action: “I forbid” (8). The couplet at the end of the sonnet supports this power dynamic: “Yet do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong/My love shall in my verse ever live young” (13-4). The speaker describes Time as “old,” which reveals an inherent weakness in it. By describing it as “old,” the speaker implies that Time has become a victim of itself—Time has aged. Even when it does its “worst” (i.e. tries its hardest to make the speaker’s lover age), the speaker ultimately overcomes Time. He re-establishes his superiority with the poem because the words preserve his lover’s beauty: “My love shall in my verse ever live young” (14). Consequently, Shakespeare’s verse reverses—and, thus, conquers—the effects of Time.

Tragic Consequences

A Response to Shakespeare’s King Lear

In King Lear, Shakespeare does not conform to the conventional ending seen in most tragedies. Duke of Albany—who survives and, therefore, holds the power—should close the play with a speech that ends in a couplet. The harmony of the couplet tells the ear that the play is over, like in Malcolm’s speech at the end of Macbeth. However, Albany’s speech ends, “O, see, see!” (V.III. 368), which does not give the audience the couplet for which the convention of tragedy calls. The interruption of Albany’s speech has an unsettling and somewhat disheartening effect on the audience.

Shakespeare’s manipulation of convention makes the audience uneasy because it denies them a satisfying sense of closure. It affects the play as his use of fairy tale elements does. King Lear features several fairy tale aspects, such as the old king, the two evil sisters, and the good, youngest sister. Based on these similarities, the audience expects a fairy-tale ending: Lear and Cordelia are successful at the end of the play (i.e. good triumphs over evil). However, this does not happen. The lack of the fairy-tale ending (i.e. the death of the “good guys”) makes the play more realistic, as does the unconventional end of Albany’s speech. Good does not always win, and life does not end with a couplet.

After Duke of Albany’s would-be final speech, Lear speaks for the last time in the play. When Lear says, “Look there, look there,” it is unclear what he wants everyone to see (V.III.375). Actors can play this scene in a number of ways. They could simply deliver the line noncommittally or neutrally, and leave the meaning ambiguous. Another option is to have Lear look at Cordelia in utter despair; therefore, the “look there” would simply be pointing out that Cordelia is dead—that it’s all over for her. The last way an actor could play this scene is to look up at the heavens, which implies that Lear sees some vision of Cordelia living. This interpretation means that there is some afterlife, and ultimate justice in the universe.

Shakespeare wove recurring images of mouths, or lips, and eyes into the play. For example, Lear says, “Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so / That heaven’s vault should crack” (V.III. 309-310). This density and interconnectedness is part of what makes King Lear such a great play. Lear’s last reference to Cordelia’s mouth, “Look on her, look, her lips. Look there, look there!” (V.III.374-375), harkens back to the first mention of her mouth. When King Lear asks his daughters to voice their love for him, Cordelia responds, “Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave / My heart into my mouth” (I.I.100-110).  This connection makes it seem like Lear’s final lines are words of despair and the realization of life’s injustice. Cordelia’s “lips”—her refusal to declare her love in exchange for a piece of the kingdom—began all of the pain and suffering in the play. King Lear may be reflecting on his own foolishness and role in everything that happened, including Cordelia’s death. The way in which he divided his kingdom, and his subsequent banishment of Cordelia, had grave consequences. By saying, “Look there, look there!” Lear seems to be attributing the death of his only good and loving daughter to the folly of man and the injustice of life.

A Complicated Comedy

A Response to The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare

Romantic Comedies typically follow certain conventions; the story often uses this basic outline: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, and boy gets girl back. Shakespeare’s comedy The Merchant of Venice not only contains the expected conventions and devices, but it also complicates those conventions, making the “happy ending” a little less happy and a little more bittersweet. Antonio and Lancelot play the prototypical Crafty Slave  (a.k.a. the sidekick) characters. Antonio helps Bassanio reach Portia, and Lancelot helps Jessica elope with Lorenzo. In Act I, scene I Bassanio asks to borrow money from Antonio in order to travel to Belmont and win Portia’s hand in marriage. Antonio says, “Neither have I money nor commodity / To raise a present sum. Therefore go forth: / Try what my credit can in Venice do” (I.I.185-7). Then, Bassanio uses Antonio’s name to receive funds from Shylock, which allows him to travel to Belmont for Portia. A second Crafty Slave, Lancelot, acts as a messenger between Jessica and Lorenzo, and he also helps to divert Shylock’s attention while Jessica escapes from her father’s house. In an aside to Jessica, Lancelot whispers, “Mistress, look out at window for all this. / There will come a Christian by” (II.V. 42-3). These two sidekicks help couples come together in marriage during the play, like similar characters do in other romantic comedies.

The Merchant of Venice also features Blocking Figures, who work to separate couples during the play. Portia’s father—one of the Blocking Figures even in death—wrote in his will that her suitors must choose between three caskets, and only one of the caskets results in a marriage with Portia. This task creates an obstacle that Bassanio must overcome in his pursuit of Portia. Jessica’s father, Shylock, plays the major Blocking Figure in the play. He does not want Jessica to marry Lorenzo: “Well, Jessica, go in. / … / Do as I bid you. Shut doors after you” (II.V.52-4). He would rather keep her locked away in the house with the rest of his valuables. The debt that Antonio owes Shylock comes between the two couples in Belmont (Portia/Bassanio and Nerissa/Gratiano). Portia tells Bassanio, “For never shall you lie by Portia’s side / With an unquiet soul” (III.III.319-320); Portia sends Bassanio away with Antonio after their marriage so that he may pay Shylock back.

A father acting as a Blocking Figure creates a generational divide that is typically seen in romantic comedies. The younger generation prevails in the end; in this case, the younger generation defeats Shylock (the older generation) at the trial. Another common element of romantic comedies that appears in The Merchant of Venice is marriage. All of the couples (Portia and Bassanio, Nerissa and Gratiano, and Jessica and Lorenzo) get married during the play. The customary Miracle Recognition—luck to the point that realism breaks down—of romantic comedies occurs when Portia and Nerissa restore the rings to their husbands and reveal themselves as the doctor and his clerk: “There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, / Nerissa there, her clerk” (V.I.288-9). Shakespeare fulfills the expected patterns and customs of romantic comedy (Crafty Slave, Blocking Figure, marriage, Miracle Recognition) in The Merchant of Venice.

However, the play does not always provide the audience with the typical carefree happy ending. There are a number of reasons that The Merchant of Venice could leave audiences uneasy, one of which relates to marriage. Portia and Nerissa gave Bassanio and Gratiano rings at their weddings that symbolized their love. In Act III, scene II Portia explains, “I give them with this ring, / Which, when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, / And be my vantage to exclaim on you” (III.II.175-8). At the end of the play, actors may portray Portia and Nerissa as genuinely upset about the “loss” of the rings. The betrayal by Bassanio and Gratiano removes the possibility for an unambiguous and simple happily ever after—which is often the case in Shakespeare’s work.

Shylock, as the Blocking Figure, does not entirely fit into the category of villain; the audience may feel sympathy or pity for him by the end of the play. Shylock seems to fall somewhere between victim and villain. At the trial, he says, “[I swore] / To have the due and forfeit of my bond” (IV.I.38). On one hand, he does demand justice—the pound of flesh—and refuse the money that they initially offer him. Portia, as the doctor, asks Shylock multiple times to show mercy to Antonio. On the other hand, she forbids him from shedding Antonio’s blood as he takes his pound of flesh. She cheats Shylock out of the money that Antonio owes him. Portia humiliates Shylock at the trial as well. Portia and Antonio agree that Shylock must forfeit his estate and become a Christian: “Nay, take my life and all. Pardon not that. / … / … you take my life / When you do take the means whereby I live” (IV.I.390-3). Shylock experiences the loss of his daughter, his livelihood, his religion, and his pride during the play. His suffering is very human, and it makes the audience uneasy about casting him absolutely as the villain: “Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions” (III.I.58-9)? Shylock’s character is in the gray area; Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice does not present things as black and white. Concepts like good and bad, right and wrong, or victim and villain are ambiguous and complicated in the play.

Carpe Diem?

A Response to Jacques’ speech in As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII by William Shakespeare

 

In Shakespeare’s comedy, As You Like It, Jacques (pronounce: jacks) gives a speech about life. His “All the world’s a stage” speech is, perhaps, one of the most famous speeches in one of Shakespeare’s plays. Considering this play is a comedy, Jacques’ speech is remarkably melancholy. He says, “All the world’s a stage,/And all the men and women merely players.” By calling people “players,” Shakespeare not only reminds the audience that they are watching a play, but he also says that people have their lives written out for them, and “merely” act out their given scripts. Everyone goes through the “seven ages”: infant, schoolboy, lover, soldier, middle age (“with eyes severe and beard of formal cut”), old age, and finally, the end of life. There is no deviation, and no escape. A life may be “eventful,” but the basic structure behind specific events and actions remains steady. In the end, everyone reaches the final act, the “last scene of all.” Shakespeare calls it a “second childishness and mere oblivion,/Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” Ultimately, people become helpless and lose all of their senses—and thus, everything that makes living interesting. They come face-to-face with death.

So, why is Jacques’ speech so popular? Perhaps people simply do not read beyond “All the world’s a stage,/And all the men and women merely players.” They find these lines witty, and feel clever when they quote Shakespeare. But, hopefully, that is not the case. Perhaps this speech inspires people—a sort of twisted carpe diem. It is possible to read this speech and come away thinking, ‘Well, if all life ends in “mere oblivion,” I better live life to its fullest while I can.’ This famous speech can, with a bit of optimism, help people seek new (and hopefully good) experiences during their lifetime.