sunday post: what does christopher marlowe, ian mckellen, richard iii, and stacey kent, have in common?

well a poem of christopher marlowe titled "the passionate shepherd to his love" or called "come live with me and be my love". watch the video.


marlowe of course was a contemporary of william shakespeare, so it was no surprise that ian mckellen and collaborators of his 1995 movie adaptation of shakespeare's richard the third used it as lyrics for a song sung by jazz singer stacey kent.

btw i love that adaptation, even though imo it rather unnecessarily cut good portion of admittedly long text of the play, because of its innovative wit in fitting 1930s britain into the text. who could forget, among other things, how the line "my kingdom for a horse" was adapted.

i got to shakespeare through richard iii. when i was a teenager my curiosity was aroused while reading robert louis stevenson's the black arrow (which like shakespeare is historically inaccurate about richard and openly admits to it). so began to read shakespeare's richard iii and then other plays. anyway i think teenage boys will like that route to shakespeare. lot of gore that way :-) .

and i love stacey kent as followers of my twitter will know. i first got to know her singing through this movie.

here is the full text of the poem "the passionate shepherd to his love" by christopher marlowe

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of th purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

you may find
text of richard iii here
screenplay of the film here
a interactive conversation with ian mckellen about film and play here

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sylvia plath reading "daddy"

just read that sylvia plath's son has committed suicide. feeling weird for some reason after that.
anyway in the youtube video below she is reading the poem "daddy".

Daddy by: Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time-- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You-- Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two-- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

From "Ariel", 1966

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ps
still enjoying a sort of a month long vacation.