kborsden
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Anyone seen that gawdawful film, 'Anonymous'?
For those who haven't, or who are unaware of the conspiracy theory... it is supposed that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon and Edward de Vere (the 17th Earl of Oxford) are in fact the same person. There is a huge amount of info on this across the net, and many books have been published claiming to resolve once and for all that William Shakespeare was actually a pen-name?!
It's an interesting theory, but in my view, absolute nonsense. I won't go into all the detail of why anyone would even begin to believe it a reasonable idea, nor will I go to relatively short lengths of disproving each of those.
Having said that, it was not uncommon in his time for other poets to steal phrases, end-rhymes and even a few words he had invented (over 500 of which we use commonly today)--W.S has written letters and poems on the very matter.
Away from the could bes, the only way to really know who you are reading is in the details, right? Poetic voice always shines through, above words grouped together.
Here's a sonnet:
Who taught thee first to sigh, alas, my heart ?
Who taught thy tongue the woeful words of plaint ?
Who filled your eyes with tears of bitter smart ?
Who gave thee grief and made thy joys to faint ?
Who first did paint with colors pale thy face ?
Who first did break thy sleeps of quiet rest?
Above the rest in court who gave thee grace ?
Who made thee strive in honour to be best ?
In constant truth to bide so firm and sure,
To scorn the world regarding but thy friends ?
With patient mind each passion to endure,
In one desire to settle to the end ?
Love then thy choice wherein such choice thou bind,
As nought but death may ever change thy mind.
and here's another:
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
Anybody see the difference? It is huge! But which is which and whose is whose?
For those who haven't, or who are unaware of the conspiracy theory... it is supposed that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon and Edward de Vere (the 17th Earl of Oxford) are in fact the same person. There is a huge amount of info on this across the net, and many books have been published claiming to resolve once and for all that William Shakespeare was actually a pen-name?!
It's an interesting theory, but in my view, absolute nonsense. I won't go into all the detail of why anyone would even begin to believe it a reasonable idea, nor will I go to relatively short lengths of disproving each of those.
Having said that, it was not uncommon in his time for other poets to steal phrases, end-rhymes and even a few words he had invented (over 500 of which we use commonly today)--W.S has written letters and poems on the very matter.
Away from the could bes, the only way to really know who you are reading is in the details, right? Poetic voice always shines through, above words grouped together.
Here's a sonnet:
Who taught thee first to sigh, alas, my heart ?
Who taught thy tongue the woeful words of plaint ?
Who filled your eyes with tears of bitter smart ?
Who gave thee grief and made thy joys to faint ?
Who first did paint with colors pale thy face ?
Who first did break thy sleeps of quiet rest?
Above the rest in court who gave thee grace ?
Who made thee strive in honour to be best ?
In constant truth to bide so firm and sure,
To scorn the world regarding but thy friends ?
With patient mind each passion to endure,
In one desire to settle to the end ?
Love then thy choice wherein such choice thou bind,
As nought but death may ever change thy mind.
and here's another:
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
Anybody see the difference? It is huge! But which is which and whose is whose?