[Brian Allgar]

Here's my favourite (often sung by a friend of mine):

THE NIGHT I APPEARED AS MACBETH
William Hargreaves (1922)

'Twas through a Y.M.C.A. concert
I craved a desire for the stage
In Flanders one night I was asked to recite
Gadzooks I was quickly the rage
They said I was better than Irving
And gave me some biscuits and tea
I know it's not union wages
But that was the usual fee
Home I came - bought a dress
Appeared in your Theatre and what a success.

Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
The audience yelled "You're sublime"
They made me a present of Mornington Crescent
They threw it a brick at a time
Someone threw a fender which caught me a bender
I hoisted a white flag and tried to surrender
They jeered me, they queered me
And half of them stoned me to death
They threw nuts and sultanas, fried eggs and bananas
The night I appeared as Macbeth.

The play tho' ascribed to Bill Shakespeare
To me lacked both polish and tone
So I put bits in from Miss Elinor Glyn,
Nat Gould, and some bits of my own
The band played the Barber of Seville
And being too long they made cuts
When I entered somewhere in Scotland
And finished in Newington Butts
Oh, the flowers - what a feast
They threw it in bagfulls, self raising and yeast.

Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
I improved the part with a dance
The pit had a relapse, so R.A.M.C. chaps
Were wired for to come back from France
I withdrew my sabre and started to labour
Cried "Lay on MacDuff" to my neighbour
I hollared, "I'm collared
I must reach the bridge or it's death"
But they altered my journey, I reached the infirm'ry
The night I appeared in Macbeth.

The advertised time for the curtain
Was six forty-five on the sheet
The hall keeper he having mislaid the key,
We played the first act in the street
Then somebody called for the author
"He's dead " said the flute player's wife
The news caused an awful commotion
And gave me the shock of my life
Shakespeare dead? Poor old Bill!
Why, I never knew the poor fellow was ill.

Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
They wished David Garrick could see
But he's in the Abbey, then someone quite shabby
Suggested that's where I should be
Lloyd George and Clemenceau, they both carried on so
The King of the Belgians rushed in with Alfonso
They pleaded - unheeded
And all of them cried in one breath
"There's another war coming if you don't stop humming"
The night I appeared in Macbeth.

Extra Chorus:
I acted so tragic the house rose like magic
I gave them such wonderful thrills
My tender emotion caused such a commotion
The dress circle made out their wills
The gallery boys straining, dropped tears uncomplaining
The pit put umbrellas up, thought it was raining
Some floated - some boated
And five of the band met their death
And the poor programme women
Sold programmes while swimming
The night I appeared as Macbeth.

[Janice D. Soderling]

Why not merge this thread with the one started a few days ago?

Just to make it easier when doing a search later on?

[Michael Cantor]

Makes sense. The other one has already accumulated many quotes and comments. Be a shame to see it wiggle down the Sphere while we start a new one.

[Gail White]

Thanks for the merger, Janice!

I'm going to admit the most dreadful heresy - I really am not all that crazy about Shakespeare's sonnets, finding many of them hard to understand.
Nonetheless I have memorized several, and will quote one from memory here:

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she may think me some untutored youth
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue,
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore say I not, she is unjust?
And wherefore says she not that I am old?
O love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.

[Gail White]

Originally Posted by Erik Olson

*Wit, as you may know, is a term with a number of meanings ranging from the general notion of ‘intelligence’ to the narrower modern idea of amusing verbal cleverness. Wit consists in assembling and putting together with quickness, ideas in which can be found resemblance and includes the power of invention... Admittedly, not the easiest term to quickly define.

Thanks for the definition, Erik. Othello describes Desdemona as "of so high and plenteous wit and invention". I think he liked intellectual women.

[Gail White]

Just one more - favorite plays:

Tragedies: Any one except Hamlet, which I think is over-long and pretentious. (Go ahead, stone me).

Comedies: Much Ado

And for sheer verbal felicity, Best Overall: Antony & Cleopatra.

(PS -- Thanks for the laughs, Brian!)

[John Whitworth]

Consider yourself stoned, Gail. Hamlet is wall to wall quotations.

[Charlie Southerland]

Dual stoned, Gail. Or is it dually stoned? Hamlet is da bomb, diggity.

[E. Shaun Russell]

Hamlet was my favorite of Shakespeare's plays for many years. It is indeed wall-to-wall quotations, and I would never claim that it's not one of his finest...but I've definitely soured on it a bit in recent years. Hamlet's petulance, though understandable, wears a little thin after awhile. I could completely empathize with the character when I was in my teens and twenties, but now that I'm my mid-to-late thirties, I read Hamlet and think of the title character as a bit too impetuous, and frankly a bit of a twerp. The play is excellent, obviously, and deserving of the centuries of acclaim it has received. It is also, however, deserving of Eliot's infamous critique.

A friend of mine recently mentioned that young men identify with Hamlet, middle-aged men identify with Coriolanus, and old men identify with Lear. For me, this seems to hit the mark...