Comparison Post

So, it struck me the other day how Lady Macbeth acts very similar to another character I knew and the discussion lead on Jesus' post also made me think of this I thought I should bring up. Did it occur to any of you the Lady Macbeth and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing seem very similar in some way. Not fully as both characters have completely different motives and more likely get different results towards the end of their stories. What do you guys think, could they be in any way similar or are they completely different and shouldn't even be compared? (By the way, sorry for typos and incorrect grammar usage in advance! )

Lady Macbeth

Hey guys, so while reading macbeth in class, I've been very intrigued with Lady Macbeth. I love how she's so conniving and manipulative. I love how Shakespeare made Macbeth weaker than Lady Macbeth instead of the other way around. It's a nice twist. What do you guys think about Lady Macbeth? Do you love or hate her? How do you think she became so power hungry?

The Witches

 Act I Scene i

 FIRST WITCH: When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

  

SECOND WITCH: When the hurly-burly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won.

 THIRD WITCH: That will be ere the set of sun.

FIRST WITCH: Where the place?

  

SECOND WITCH: Upon the heath.

 

THIRD WITCH: There to meet with Macbeth.

 

 

We read in Act I that it was the witches who spoke a prophecy to Banquo and Macbeth about the heir of the throne. Prophecy and supernatural affairs always seem to spark an interest in the minds of humans. It could be interpreted that the prophecy from the witches is what planted the seed of ambition in Macbeth, or may have even watered it. We debated in class about who was to blame for the murder, but we never mentioned the witches. Should they be blamed for putting the idea of being king in Macbeth's head? Would Macbeth even consider killing Duncan if he never heard of this prophecy? Also, do you guys think that the play resembles "Game of Thrones?"

Who is more guilty?

In class, Mrs. Ross posed the question, "Who is more guilty, Macbeth or Lady Macbeth?". For the most part, it seemed as if the class either blamed Lady Macbeth, or blamed them equally. On the other-hand, I find Macbeth to be more guilty. Macbeth was the first to contemplate killing King Duncan, if he didn't want to do it - or if he felt it was completely out of question, he wouldn't have mentioned it to his wife. Lady Macbeth urged Macbeth to kill Duncan, but she did not commit the murder herself. In fact during this time period she really didn't have much power, the only power she had was over Macbeth (which he essentially granted to her). Every person is responsible for their own actions. No one can "force" you to do anything (psychological speaking).
If this were tried today, Macbeth could be charged with 3 murders (thus far:first degree murder [duncan], third degree murder x2 [the two guards]). Lady Macbeth can only be charged with conspiracy to murder (however, it is rare that they could find evidence to back this up). If they were both pronounced guilty, Macbeth could be sentenced to life in prison or given the death penalty; Lady Macbeth could be sentenced (at most) to life in prison.
Also, it seems as if Lady Macbeth is beginning to feel remorse and she'd probably plee guilty, which could result in her receiving a lighter sentence. Whereas Macbeth is feeling paranoid and is conspiring to murder Banquo. What are your thoughts?

Understanding Macbeth

Hey guys! So, I know Shakespeare's words are beautiful but sometimes I don't know what the heck he is saying. Something that REALLY helped me as I read it the first time was No Fear Shakespeare! My former English teacher encouraged us to use it when we were having trouble understanding. On one column it has the original text of the play and on the column right next to it is modernized text! It's a great way of understanding the play because not only do you have modern and simplified text, but you have the original right next to it so you can still reference yourself. The link to the website is below! Happy reading!

http://nfs.sparknotes.com/macbeth/

Mcbeth

I am a bit frighten how a women such as Lady Macbeth can be a cold hearted person. I find it a bit cruel how she can breast feed a newborn and then murder it in that same instant.

T.S. Eliot

I am still obsessing over T.S. Eliot and his poem "Preludes". So I decided to look up more of his work and I found one of his poems titled
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock".

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .                               10
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,                               20
And seeing that it was a soft October night
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;                                30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—                               40
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,                       50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?                    60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
        .     .     .     .     .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets              70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
        .     .     .     .     .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?                  80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,                                             90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say, "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,                                           100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."                                          110
        .     .     .     .     .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .                                              120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown               130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

What do you think the poem is about?

Do you have any favorite lines in the poem? — Anything stick out to you?

Pardon Me

Do you guys have any REALLY good examples for the usage of iambic pentameter? Also, could you guys sample some for me in the poems you wrote.
                    Please & Thank you...

Bonfire Night

Today in class we discussed Guy Fawkes Day, also known as Bonfire Night. I found it quite interesting that the UK celebrates this holiday to commemorate the failure of the gunpowder plot. They basically spend a day rejoicing over something that didn't happen. Do you know of any (are there any?) other holidays celebrated over things that didn't happen?

Petrarchan Sonnet

Hey guys ! I was wondering if any of you had trouble writing the poem ? It was hard for me to begin it but I finally got it in the end. I wanted to know if I'm the only one who had this problem.