Monday, May 21, 2012
Troilus and Cressida
I read Troilus and Cressida after I bought this set. I have never seen it performed or adapted. I did, however, play a role in the Buffalo Poets Theater production of Jack Spicer's version of the play. Two roles, actually. One a kind of queer uncle to one of the characters, the other a dirty old man. I can't recall the names of the characters I played. Pandarus, possibly? Patroclus? I wore an orange wig for one role and a gray wig for the other. One used a plastic sword as a prop, the other a copy of Penthouse. There are photos somewhere in my Facebook stream, if you are interested.
Ah, poets theater. Buffalo. Sniff sniff.
I am happy to report that I wrote my first New Haven poem yesterday. It took a good month and a half to get revved up. I felt pretty good about what I wrote when I went to sleep last night. Let's hope it lasts.
from Troilus and Cressida
O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,--
When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad
In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair;'
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice,
Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me,
As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.