Bardisms (13 page)

How to say it:

At twenty-four lines, this is a long and intimidating speech. A great way to tackle it is to break it down into smaller chunks, and then concentrate on communicating each one of these in detail, rather than feeling an obligation to put across the speech as a whole. You can arrange the speech’s subunits (actors call them “beats”) in a couple of ways.

• By punctuation
  . Circle each period in the speech. Then, as you read through, force yourself to speak only one sentence at a time. Ten sentences will feel much easier to manage than twenty-five lines.
  
• By concept
  . Polonius starts with an instruction to his son to remember what he says. Then he does a line and a half about thoughts, speech, and action. Next is a five-line section about how to handle friendship. Next are two short bits, the first about fighting and the second about opinions. Another five-line chunk discusses how best to dress, then three lines talk about money. Finally, Polonius spends three lines giving his most important piece of advice, about being true to yourself. The structure of the thoughts in the speech, then, might be outlined as follows:
  

Advice for My Son

- Intro

- Thoughts / Speech / Action

- Friendship (dwell on this)

- Fighting

- Opinions

- Clothes (spend some time here; reference the French)

- Money

- True to self (most important of all!)

Try making your way through the speech as though it were a bulleted list, and let its well-organized structure carry you from one thought to the next.

Let antithesis help you as much as you can; it’s everywhere in these lines.
Thoughts
versus
tongue
;
unproportioned thought
versus
act
;
familiar
versus
vulgar
;
beware of entrance
versus
beware of thee
;
every man
versus
few
;
ear
versus
voice
;
take censure
versus
reserve judgment
;
rich
versus
gaudy
;
apparel
versus
man
;
borrower
versus
lender
;
loan
versus
borrowing
;
night
versus
day
;
thine own self
versus
any man
;
true
versus
false
.

Technically, line 2’s
character
is stressed on the second syllable: ka-RACK-ter. Try it, but don’t worry if you’d rather let it slide.

Polonius is often played as a pompous windbag condescending to his son, who, in contemptuous response, spends the whole speech rolling his eyes with boredom and disgust. I don’t buy it. First, Shakespeare puts this scene in the play in order to establish the bond of warmth and fondness between Laertes and his father that will help fuel Laertes’ revenge when he discovers later that Polonius has been murdered. This dramatic function must fail if the two men make no connection here. Second, the speech’s verbs hardly suggest that Polonius is distracted, distant, or careless about his son’s welfare. Consider a list:
character, give, be, grapple, dull, beware, bear, give, take, reserve, buy, proclaims, be, loses, dulls, be, follow, be
. There’s real vitality here. This isn’t some bloviating dad wheeling out a bunch of tired old saws; this is an engaged parent doing everything he can to help his child make the most out of life. Take Polonius seriously, and as you say his words, or write them, or write about them, give yourself the chance to hear and appreciate them even as you generously and with thoughtfulness propose them to your younger charges.

Feel free to cut the two lines about what great dressers the French are, unless, of course, you’re giving the commencement address at the Sorbonne.

IT’S GREAT TO USE YOUR IMAGINATION

I’ve never been asked to give a commencement address, but if ever I am, I’ll turn to a favorite Bardism that offer some life advice I truly value. (The line itself is a lot shorter than Polonius’ speech, too, which I suspect my future listeners will appreciate.)

Much virtue in “if.”

—T
OUCHSTONE
,
As You Like It
, 5.4.92

Some details:

This is one of those impossible-to-paraphrase Shakespearean snippets that say in four words what would take most of us a paragraph to communicate. I suppose “It’s good to dream” will do as a quick translation into modern English, or perhaps “Fantasy is very important,” or “Idealism can be useful,” but these don’t quite cover everything Touchstone means. John Lennon’s song
Imagine
could be construed as a commentary on the line, as could every comic book ever written, movie ever made, or invention ever conjured from the recesses of some visionary’s mind. The line is Shakespeare’s great call to make the world a better place, to yearn for a better way. “If” makes anything possible: science, politics, love itself. A car that can get eighty miles per gallon of gasoline? “If.” Want to marry that sparkly-eyed, raven-haired girl? “If.” Middle East peace? “Your ‘if’ is the only peacemaker,” says Touchstone.

“Much virtue in ‘if’” is perfect Shakespeare for the Occasion of Commencement, because it’s perfect Shakespeare for Inspiration, and ideal Shakespeare for the Occasion of the World Being Your Oyster.

SHAKESPEARE ON SPORTS AND EXERCISE

I’ll make sport with thee.

—L
AFEU
,
All’s Well That Ends Well
,
5.3.319

A proud Shakespeare geek, I don’t mind sharing tales of some of my geekiest Shakespeare moments. Most date from my years as a graduate student at Oxford, which is not surprising, not because one’s years in grad school are geeky by definition (although they are), nor because I was living Shakespeare 24/7/365 at the time (although I was), but because that great university city’s dreaming spires soar through air that flows into town from nearby Warwickshire, Shakespeare’s home turf. It’s hard not to become intoxicated by the fresh, crisp scent of the Cotswolds as it hits the nostrils. Allowing oneself that little nip of English countryside intoxicant is the first step down the slippery slope of unregenerate Shakespeare geekdom. To wit:

There was the time while visiting Scotland that I drove from Birnam Wood to Dunsinane. I wanted to affix some branches to the car in fulfillment of the witches’ prediction to Macbeth that the forest would march this route, but the friend I was traveling with nixed it.

There was the time late one night I snuck onto the darkened stage of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford, yelled, “O for a muse of fire!” and fled into the wings before anyone could alert security.

And there was the time I sat on a country hillside and read aloud the wrestling scene from
As You Like It
to the only audience around on a Tuesday afternoon in spring: an indifferent flock of sheep.