Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspires are. Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill shall come against him.
Ah, Susun, are you sure? [...] oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s In deepest consequence.
Macbeth was such a killer. And the others were no saints. In my early 20s, when we played those bloody scenes, in French, with my small theatrical group, it took us a whole bottle of ketchup, each time we had an audience. It looked very real. People loved it. Today I can hardly put up with Shakespeare although I have learned to read his beautiful language.
All made up though.... I lived on the slopes of Dunsinane Hill for three years and walked in Birnam wood often. Shakespeare invented his fiction travelling past the road where my cottage was, but it was pure fiction.
and we all know what happened next..
ReplyDeleteAh, Susun, are you sure?
Delete[...] oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s
In deepest consequence.
Great photo!
ReplyDeleteMacbeth was such a killer. And the others were no saints. In my early 20s, when we played those bloody scenes, in French, with my small theatrical group, it took us a whole bottle of ketchup, each time we had an audience. It looked very real. People loved it. Today I can hardly put up with Shakespeare although I have learned to read his beautiful language.
A fine 'appatreetion', eh? :)
DeleteKetchup? Well, better than each time a new actor . . . :)
All made up though.... I lived on the slopes of Dunsinane Hill for three years and walked in Birnam wood often. Shakespeare invented his fiction travelling past the road where my cottage was, but it was pure fiction.
ReplyDeleteHa, Andrew, 'pure fiction'?!
DeleteOf course, you would not get harmed, as you're not Macbeth, . . . obviously. :)