Showing posts with label Curse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Curse. Show all posts

Monday, 29 January 2018

Timon of Athens

"...that idea of The Far-Off Man, way, way out there,  but what does The Hermit tell us...?

If you try this get as lonely as you can get, you become visibly aware which you can't get away from it, because when you get very lonely very fast you become extremely thin and everything that goes on is or now ordinarily unnoticed cum spiritum 

First of all, you will find that there is a  Community of Insects.

And they are tremendously interested in You, and not necessarily hostile, in maybe some cases they are so.

But alone in The Forest, when you get really quiet, you'll notice little creatures will come and inspect you look you all over an
they'll go away and tell their friends and they'll come and look to see what it is and you become aware of every single sound and you realize that alone you're in the midst of a vast burning crowd - it may not be human but it's everything else - so
that the the point of being honest the discipline leads you to understand that 
You can't Resign

The lonelier you are, the more you're joined together with everything else. "

" Look at it - from another point of view, supposing I say everybody's playing the game Me First  - now, I'm going to play the game You Firstto use the phrase of Bonhoeffer who called Jesus The Man for Others - now, let's see if we could play that game instead of Me FirstYou First 


"I'm the one see who's so generous I'm the one who's so loving so self-effacing and all you insolent brats ...."

- Alan Watts

" This controversial play follows the declining fortunes of a man of extravagant contradictions.  

The fabulously rich Timon believes all his friends to be as open-hearted and generous as himself. When his wealth suddenly evaporates, however, he discovers the truth and his altruism turns to a bitter hatred of mankind. Stirred up by the cynical Apemantus, Timon retreats to the woods where he plots the destruction of Athens, the city that had formerly seemed to embody everything pleasurable and civilized. The cosmic scope of his hatred is communicated in a series of powerful and disturbing dramatic tableaux. 

The Curse :

SCENE I. Without the walls of Athens.

Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall,
That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth,
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench,
And minister in their steads! to general filths
Convert o' the instant, green virginity,
Do 't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal!
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen,
pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! Piety, and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries,
And let confusion live! Plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,
at their society, as their friendship, may
merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound--hear me, you good gods all--
The Athenians both within and out that wall!
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen.


Friday, 2 June 2017

Swift Curses : "The Queen Margaret Stuff is Difficult"

O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies!
"The Queen Margaret Stuff is Difficult"

Male Oxbridge English Literature Professor, 
On why he doesn't understand Richard III

HEAR ME!!, you wrangling pirates, that fall out 
In sharing that which you have pill'd from me!!!

Which of you trembles not that looks on me? 

Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? 

Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! 

Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! 
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, 
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? 
Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. 
The time will come when thou shalt wish for me 
To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad.

Stay, dog,!!! for thou shalt hear me. 
If heaven have any grievous plague in store 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, 
And then hurl down their indignation 
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! 
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul! 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest, 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream 
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! 
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! 
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature and the son of hell! 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb! 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! 
Thou rag of honour! thou detested—
look'd for no reply. 
O, let me make the period to my curse!
A murderous villain, and so still thou art.

To serve me well, you all should do me duty, 
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: 
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!
Duke of Buckingham. Have done, have done.
O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand, 
In sign of league and amity with thee: 
Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! 
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, 
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? 
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? 

O, but remember this another day, 
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, 
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! 

Live each of you the subjects to his hate, 
And he to yours, and all of you to God's!