Shakespeare Live! From the RSC

Tonight from the Royal Shakespeare theatre Stratford-upon-Avon, Judi

Dench, Helen Mirren, Ian McKellen, Benedict Cumberbatch, David Suchet,

Tim Minchin, AlMurray, Rufus Hound, MeeraSayal. Ann-Marie Duff and many

more join together to celebrate the life and work of William

Shakespeare. # The Jets are gonna

have their day tonight. # The Jets are gonna

have their way tonight. The Puerto Ricans

grumble: "Fair fight." # But if they start a rumble,

We'll rumble 'em right. # We're gonna hand 'em

a surprise Tonight. # We're gonna cut 'em

down to size Tonight. # We said, "OK, no

rumpus, No tricks." # But just in case they jump us,

We're ready to mix Tonight. # We're gonna jazz it up

and have us a ball! # The more they turn it

on the harder they'll fall! ALL: # And we're the ones to stop

'em once and for all, tonight! # Anita's gonna get

her kicks tonight. # We'll have our private

little mix tonight. # He'll walk in hot

and tired, poor dear # Don't matter if he's tired,

As long as he's here # Tonight, tonight,

Won't be just any night, # Tonight there will

be no morning star. # Tonight, tonight, I'll

see my love tonight. # And for us, stars will

stop where they are. # The hours go so slowly,

And still the sky is light. # And make this endless

day endless night! # The Jets are coming

out on top tonight # Tonight, tonight,

Late tonight, # Anita's gonna have her day,

Anita's gonna have her day, # Tonight, this very night,

We're gonna rock it tonight! # Tonight, tonight, I'll

see my love tonight. # And for us, stars will

stop where they are. Tonight we celebrate the life

and work of William Shakespeare, for it is exactly 400 years

to the day since he died, We are here at the Royal

Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon,

barely a stone's throw from where he was born,

and where he is buried. It's not just the great

stories he writes, the wonderful characters,

and the memorable language, Shakespeare tells us

about ourselves. Perhaps that is why,

for four centuries, he has inspired From Berlioz and Bernstein,

to Hip-hop and Jazz, From Ballet to Broadway

to Blues...and back. And that's what we're

celebrating tonight. There really is something

for everybody. And all the men and women merely

players: They have their exits

and their entrances; And one man

in his time plays many parts, Mewling

and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining

schoolboy, with his satchel creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. Sighing like furnace,

with a woeful ballad Full of strange oaths

and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden

and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even

in the cannon's mouth. In fair

round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and

beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws

and modern instances; Into the lean

and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose

and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well

saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank;

and his big manly voice, Turning again toward

childish treble, pipes That ends this

strange eventful history, Is second childishness

and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes,

sans taste, sans everything. The famous "All the World's a Stage"

speech from As You Like It, there, with the Seven Ages of Man

represented by: - The tiny wee baby son of two

of the RSC production staff, - with a maternity nurse

from Warwick hospital, - a schoolboy from Shakespeare's

own school, King Edward's, - a dancer/performer

from Birmingham, - a soldier serving in the Royal

Electrical and Mechanical Engineers And now the first of four short

films about the life of William Shakespeare introduced

by a man who knows all about the Bard, having played him

onscreen in Shakespeare In Love. Here's Joseph Fiennes to introduce

"The Seasons of Shakespeare's Life" William Shakespeare was born

in the Warwickshire market town of Stratford-upon-Avon on this very

day, April 23rd, 1564. It's where he enjoyed

the springtime of his life, for it's here in Warwickshire

that he was raised, here in Stratford that he was educated,

and here in this hamlet that he enjoyed the

first shoots of love. In this cottage, in the village

of Shottery, lived a yeoman farmer's Perhaps, in this farmhouse,

they exchanged love tokens, perhaps under these eaves

they whispered their sweetest nothings, and who knows, perhaps

for Anne he began writing poetry. Perhaps it's from this youthful

springtime that he drew the inspiration for the song Under

the Greenwood Tree from his play In its verses we can hear

the echoes of love at its most # Here we'll find no enemy

but winter, and rough weather # Than to die not my master stutter

those whose ambitions shun Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Shall I hear more,

or shall I speak at this? 'Tis but thy name that is my

enemy; Thou art thyself,

though not a Montague. Nor arm,

nor face, nor any other part By any

other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were

he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear

perfection which he owes And for that

name which is no part of thee Call me

but love, and I'll be new baptized; What man art thou that

thus bescreen'd in night By a name I know not how

to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint,

is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy

to thee; Had I it written,

I would tear the word. My ears have not yet

drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance,

yet I know the sound: Neither, fair saint,

if either thee dislike. How camest thou hither,

tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are

high and hard to climb, And the place death,

considering who thou art. If they do see thee,

they will murder thee. I have night's cloak

to hide me from their sight; And but thou love me,

let them find me here. Thou know'st the mask

of night is on my face, Else would a maiden

blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast

heard me speak to-night That tips with silver

all these fruit-tree tops - O, swear not by the moon,

the inconstant moon, That monthly changes

in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove

likewise variable. Or, if thou wilt, swear

by thy gracious self, Well, do not swear:

although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this

contract to-night: It is too rash, too

unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning,

which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It

lightens.' This bud of love, by

summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous

flower when next we meet. Parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good Sleep dwell upon thine eyes,

peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace,

so sweet to rest! Looking at what their bodies are

capable of doing, I find it difficult to believe we are the same

species. The Balcony Scene from Romeo

and Juliet, of course, performed by

Mariah Gale and Natey Jones. And the Royal Ballet's Yasmine

Naghdi and Matthew Ball performing the same scene in Prokofiev's Romeo

and Juliet with Kenneth Macmillan's The Royal Ballet commissioned the

place for the terse of Shakespeare's birth.

So I put him down with a perfect witty response!

I haven't had this much fun since I was in prison!

Excuse me, is this where the theatre stars hang out?

Shall I give him an autograph or kill him?

Lad, you are addressing the greatest theatrical stars of the age.

Ben Jonson, actor and writer, Kit Marlowe, playwright

And this is Gabriel Spenser, he's just an actor but we let him

hang out with us because he likes drinking and fighting.

He also does a good line in literary criticism.

OK, guys, well I might come back later

when you're a bit less busy and drunk and fighty.

Actually I was looking for some advice.

Basically, at the moment I'm mainly like an actor,

but, like, I'm looking to get more into writing, you know,

and I mainly specialise in playing old man parts

Well, my name is William Shakespeare.

Real writers drink and fight and go to prison!

Well I have a wife and kids so I have to earn a living.

Anyway, I'm pretty good at writing plays.

Oooh look at me, I'm Billy Springle-Sprangle

and I write plays, and I plan for the future.

I genuinely don't know who that's supposed to be.

Ok look I'm not good at impressions alright?

Listen buddy, I'm a writer not a fighter,

and I'm going all the way to the top with or without you guys.

Everyone will know my name, William S-

The Horrible Histories gang there, with a playful take on the past.

And now Shakespeare's own take on the history of Henry V.

Here the young king, having conquered France

at the Battle of Agincourt, finds himself powerless

and tongue-tied in his attempts to woo the French princess,

Katherine, with whom he hopes to unite the English

to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear

And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?

Your majesty shall mock at me: I cannot speak your England.

O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart,

I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your

An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.

Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.

I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.

Les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.

That the tongues of men are full of deceits?

Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits: dat is de princess.

I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding.

I am glad thou canst speak no better English.

I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say 'I love you'.

Then if you urge me farther than to say, 'Do you in faith?',

Give me your answer, i'faith, do, and so clap

Sauf votre honneur, me understand vell.

Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake,

If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle

with my armour on my back, I should quickly leap into a wife.

But, before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly nor gasp

out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation.

If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face

is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass

for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook.

I speak to thee plain soldier: if thou canst love me for this,

take me: if not, to say to thee that I shall die,

is true; but for thy love, by the lord, no.

If thou would have such a one, take me: and take me,

take a soldier: take a soldier, take a king.

A good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will

turn white, a full face will wither, a fair eye will wax hollow, but a

good heart Kate is the sun and the moon. Or rather the sun and not the

moon because it shines bright and never changes. Keeps his course

tulip. If thou would have such a one, take me. And take me, take a

soldier. Take a soldier, take a King. Very good.

If Shakespeare were alive today, what would he be?

No, I mean would he be writing for films, or TV shows, or -

Well, I've heard they only hire the best.

Who better to answer than Akala and Nitin Sawhney?

Here they are with Hip Hop Shakespeare.

If all of the world's a stage, then light my way, because out, out, your

brief candle is not. For centuries past, yet I still cannot grasp that

undiscovered country that makes words immortal. If the good that men

do is interred with their bones, then this precious stone is a beauty

too rich. Me thinks it's a jewel in the air of us all, as the wisest

words spoken are spoken by force. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, I want

to endure desire. Time wastes me, flesh goes pasty. Delayed found

greatness. What me did they feed, I wouldn't taste the milk even if it

was good. Sprang back unfound the language disused by us all. Stat due

and stone, I have captured your tone. I remembered the poet in the

lunatic, one and the same, only sometimes men and masters are the

same of their faith. Lighted their ways to a dusty death. A fool's

paradise, a shadow of dream, off with his head. Guide me to the

world's light, it could turn his prison cell bright. Guide me to the

world's night. Could turn the prison cell bright. Guide me to the world's

bright. Men can breathe and eyes can see, this gives life to thee. When I

think there's not a note of anything worth noting, faultless cries, I get

tongue tied, my soul runs dry, I remember you spoke of the marriage

of the minds. I presume to take your place in a nutshell, I'm the King of

infinite space, a waste of shame, so full of blame, expense in my spirit

and disgraced in my name. I'm un-Kingth Ked again. Not learnt from

the thingious taught us. The song and very chug dies.

All this, I know not well enough to show. Guide me to the world's light,

when I arrive, it could turn the prison cell right. When I arrive, it

could turn the prison cell bright. When I'm right, it could turn this

prison cell bright. Eyes can see, this gives life to thee. What's past

makes sense with the gathered centuries after death. They call you

King. It's honourable, what is horrible, you didn't know all this

was possible. Did you feel it in your bones, did you have this

greatness thrust upon you? You should really give the devil his

due, speak to few. Words never scarce, spent in vein, the clue's

Shakespeare, but what's in a name? Hell at night, guide me to the

world's light, when EU arrive, it could turn the prison cell bright.

Guide me to the world's light. When I arrive, it could turn the prison

cell right. As far as eyes can see, this gives life to thee. Guide know

the world's light, when I arrive, it could turn this prison cell bright.

Guide know the world light, when I arrive, it could turn this prison

cell bright. This gives life to thee.

If all the world's a stage, then light my way. Because out, out, the

candle is not. For centuries past, yet I still cannot grasp that

undiscovered country that makes words immortal. If the good that men

do is interred with their bones, then this precious stone is a beauty

to rich. Me thinks it's a jewel in the air of us all, as the wisest

words spoken are spoken by fools. CHEERING AND APPLAUSE.

As Spring turns to Summer, Love can turn to Madness:

And Love certainly does mad things to people,

in these three scenes from As You Like It, Twelfth Night

Rosalind, dressed as a boy, woos her beloved Orlando,

The Steward Malvolio who lusts after his mistress,

Olivia, has been tricked into dressing up in yellow

stockings to impress her; And the queen of the fairies,

having had a spell cast on her, finds herself enchanted by a poor

old weaver called Bottom, who has himself been transformed

Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!

Where have you been all this while?

An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break

but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love,

it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder,

Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had

But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more

coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will.

Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.

Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?

Now tell me how long you would have her after

Say 'a day,' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are April

when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May

when they are maids, but the sky changes

I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon

over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain,

more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires

than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana

in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry;

I will laugh like a hyena, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.

Or else she could not have the wit to do this: make the doors

upon a woman's wit and it will out at the casement; shut that

and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke

For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.

Dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

By two o'clock I will be with thee again.

Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove:

my friends told me as much, and I thought no less: that

flattering tongue of yours won me: 'tis but one cast away,

By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me,

and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous,

if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour,

I will think you the most pathetical break-promise and the most hollow

lover and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that may be

chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware

With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu.

Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders,

O that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love!

But it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown bottom,

I'll tell thee, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go

He is sad and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes:

He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner.

Madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have

some guard about you, if he come; for, sure,

I am as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be.

I sent for thee upon a sad occasion.

I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood,

this cross-gartering; but what of that?

If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very

true sonnet is, 'Please one, and please all.'

Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs.

It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed:

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand.

Ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee.

Why dost thou smile so and kiss thy hand so oft?

Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady?

'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ.

'And some have greatness thrust upon them.'

'Remember who commended thy yellow stocking s.

'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'

'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'

'If not, let me see thee a servant still.'

You see an asshead of your own, do you?

an ass of me; to fright me, if they could.

But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up

and down here, and I will sing, that they shall

# The throstle with his note so true.

What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark.

Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note.

So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.

And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me.

On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.

Me thinks mistress you should have little reason

And yet, to say the truth, reason and

Love keep little company together now-a-days.

The more the pity that some honest neighbours will not

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.

Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out

of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.

Out of this wood do not desire to go:

Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.

I am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth

tend upon my state; And I do love thee: therefore, go with me;

I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee,

And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,

And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep;

And I will purge thy mortal grossness so

That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.

Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;

Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;

Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,

With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;

The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,

And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs

And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,

To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings

from painted butterflies To fan the moonbeams

from his sleeping eyes: Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

I cry your worship's mercy, heartily:

Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.

The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;

And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,

Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently.

William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway were married in 1582.

He was 18, and she was 26 and pregnant.

Six months later their daughter Susanna was born and two years

after that the young couple had twins Hamnet and Judith.

And soon after that, Shakespeare left Anne

and the children in Stratford and went to London, where he found

a career in the theatre, writing plays and performing

for a company of actors called the Lord Chamberlain's Men.

Of course we can't know what he felt about his departure

but as he enters the creative Summertime of his life Shakespeare

describes how the course of true love never did run smooth.

It can spin girls into boys, twist a man into a fool,

and turn a clown into a donkey, and sometimes love departs

And nowhere is that restless spirit better captured than in this song

# Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.

# One foot in sea and one on shore, o one thing constant never,

# Then sigh not so, but let them go, and be you blithe and bonny,

# Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.

# Sing no more ditties, sing no more, Of dumps so dull and heavy;

# The fraud of men was ever so, Since summer first was leafy:

# Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny,

# Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny #.

# Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny,

# Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny #.

In Much Ado About Nothing, a couple meet again after a long time apart.

They have been lovers in the past, but love has turned sour,

Performing as Beatrice and Benedick now are Meera Syal

A kind overflow of kindness. How much better is it to weep at Joy

then joy at weeping? I wonder, you will still be talking, nobody marks

you. Is it possible disdain should die

while she hath such meet food Courtesy itself must convert

to disdain, if you come But it is certain I am loved

of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart

that I had not a hard heart; for, A dear happiness to women:

they would else have been troubled I thank God and my cold blood,

I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow

than a man swear he loves me. God keep your ladyship

still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall

'scape a predestinate Scratching could not make it worse,

an 'twere such a face as yours were. A bird of my tongue is better

than a beast of yours. I would my horse had

the speed of your tongue, But keep your way,

in God's name; I have done. You always end with a jade's

trick: I know you of old. When the French composer Berlioz

first saw Shakespeare performed in Paris in 1827,

he said it struck him He became obsessed with Shakespeare,

writing a Romeo and Juliet symphony, an overture for King Lear, and,

at the end of his life, an opera called Beatrice

and Benedict based And now here's a duet

from that opera. The night before her wedding,

with her maid Ursula, the bride-to-be, Hero,

contemplates her marriage # Je ne puis y songer sans

trembler malgre moi. # Ecumant; L'ombre

de ce grand arbre, # Sous le vent; Harmonies

Infinies, And now from opera

to a Broadway musical. From Cole Porter's 1948

hit based on The Taming Hey?there's a lot of

handsome people here.. Hey, John, who's that that

guy?..look?.he looks just like that Ha ,ha,ha?how do

you think it's going? Hey what you doing, we are talking

to these people here? You waving that!

Listen, if any of you bums are trying to impress the women

you bought here this evening, then...er...how about listening

to a guy who's got a little expertrise...exper-

One must know Homer And b'lieve me bo

And Keats and Pope Dainty debbies will call you a dope

But the poet of them all That will start 'em simply ravin'

Is the poet people call The Bard of Stratford-on-Avon

# Just declaim a few lines from 'Othella' and they'll

# If your blond won't respond when you flatter 'er

# Tell her what Tony told Cleopaterer.

# If she fights when her clothes you are mussing

# With the wife of the British Embessida.

# Try a crack out of Troilus and Cressida.

# If she says she won't buy it or tike it.

# Make her tike it, what's more As You Like It.

# If she says your behavior is heinous,

# Kick her right in the 'Coriolanus'.

# Brush up your Shakespeare and they'll all kowtow.

# Brush up your Shakespeare Start quoting him now.

# If you can't be a ham and do Hamlet.

# They will not give a damn or a damnlet.

# And your lap will have honey upon it.

# When your baby is pleading for pleasure.

# Let her sample your Measure for Measure.

# Brush up your Shakespeare and they'll all kowtow.

# Brush up your Shakespeare Start quoting him now.

# Brush up your Shakespeare And the women you will wow.

# Better mention the Merchant of Venice

# When her sweet pound 'o flesh you would menace.

# If her virtue at first she defends well.

# Just remind her that All's Well that Ends Well

# And if still she won't give you a bonus.

# You know what Venus got from Adonis.

# Brush up your Shakespeare And they'll all kowtow.

# And they'll all kowtow Odds bodkins.

# Brush up your Shakespeare Start quoting him now.

# Brush up your Shakespeare And the women you will wow.

# If your goil is a Washington Heights dream.

# Treat the kid to 'A Midsummer Night Dream'.

# If she then wants and all by herself night.

# Let her rest every 'leventh or Twelf' Night.

# If because of your heat she gets huffy.

# Simply play on and "Lay on, Macduffy!"

# Brush up your Shakespeare And they'll all kowtow.

# We trow And they'll all kowtow We vow.

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall,

Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy

of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth,

Simon Russell Beale with John of Gaunt's famous celebration

of England from Richard II, a piece that has appeared in poetry

anthologies since the play was first published in 1597.

It's 1956, jazz giant Duke Ellington is in Stratford, Ontario,

There's a Shakespeare Festival on and Duke Ellington takes a break

from his music to go and see the show.

The Duke sneaks in at the back and sits in the aisle to watch.

So moved is he that he comes back the next

night, and the next, soaking it all up, until eventually

he is inspired to write his very own homage to Shakespeare.

Here is the Midlands Youth Jazz Orchestra to play part

of Duke Ellington's jazz suite Such Sweet Thunder.

By the mid 1590s Shakespeare's career with the Lord Chamberlain's

He was riding high having penned history plays

about Henry VI and Richard III, and had high hopes for

a little known love story called Romeo and Juliet.

Those successes must have seemed far removed from the humble beginnings

of this room on Henley Street where Shakespeare was born.

But whilst his professional life was soaring, personal tragedy

In 1596, one of the twins, his son Hamnet, died.

The death must have had a profound impact on the playwright.

Perhaps, like any true artist, Shakespeare channelled that

grief into his work, for the years directly

following the death of his son were filled by the creation of some

of the most exquisite writing in the English language.

A sea-change occurred, a shift in tone from

Melancholia and poisoned longing cast dark shadows

Woven into their souls are threads of sardonic introspection,

These plays, written in the autumn of his life, were rich

What better example could we share than this sonorous refrain

from the lonely fool Feste in his bitter sweet play,

# When that I was and a little tiny boy.

# With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

# With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

# 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate.

# With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

# By swaggering could I never thrive.

# With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

# With toss-pots still had drunken heads.

# With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

# But that's all one, our play is done.

# And we'll strive to please you every day.

To be or not to be, that is the question?

It's "To be, or not to be, that....."

To be or not to be, that is the question?

You suggesting there is some reason why I couldn't...

Some intrinsic reason why audiences would not accept me

I'd never get to play Hamlet at Stratford-upon-bloody-Avon,

Egg sorry, I couldn't help overhearing.

So "To be or not to be, that is the question"

I suppose you've played Hamlet.

Sorry, I didn't realise, it's Eddie Redmayne! What are you doing? I

loved you as the Danish girl. These film stars don't really know.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

And I suppose you're going to tell me, you've played Hamlet.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

It's quite a broadchurch, the people they let play Hamlet then?

To be or not to be, that is the question.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

To be or not to be, that is the question...

To be or not to be, that is the question...

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE. Hi, Eddie. Lend me your ears.

To be or not to be, that is the question...

ALL: To be or not to be, that is the question!

Might I have a word? Just a minute. Just a minute.

LAUGHTER. To be or not to be, that is the question.

LAUGHTER. To be or not to be,

that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler

in the mind to suffer. The slings and arrows

of outrageous fortune. Or to take arms against

a sea of troubles. No more; and by a sleep

to say we end. The heart-ache and the

thousand natural shocks. That flesh is heir to,

'tis a consummation. To sleep: perchance to dream:

ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death

what dreams may come. When we have shuffled

off this mortal coil. Must give us pause:

there's the respect. For who would bear the whips

and scorns of time. But that the dread of

something after death. The undiscover'd country

from whose bourn. No traveller returns,

puzzles the will. And makes us rather bear

those ills we have. Than fly to others

that we know not of? Thus conscience does

make cowards of us all. And thus the native

hue of resolution. Is sicklied o'er with

the pale cast of thought. And enterprises of great

pitch and moment. With this regard their

currents turn awry. In the British Library

is a manuscript of a play It's partly in Shakespeare's

own handwriting. And this is the extraordinary speech

he penned, as Thomas More quells a race riot in the City of London

on May Day, appealing to the mob to consider the plight

of the foreign immigrants. Grant them removed, and grant

that this your noise. Hath chid down all

the majesty of England. Imagine that you see

the wretched strangers. Their babies at their backs

and their poor luggage. Plodding to the ports

and coasts for transportation. And that you sit as

kings in your desires. Authority quite

silent by your brawl. And you in ruff of your

opinions clothed. How insolence and strong

hand should prevail. How order should be quelled;

and by this pattern. Not one of you should

live an aged man. For other ruffians,

as their fancies wrought. With self same hand,

self reasons, and self right. Would shark on you, and men

like ravenous fishes. Should so much come too short

of your great trespass. As but to banish you,

whether would you go? What country, by the

nature of your error. To any German province,

to Spain or Portugal. Nay, any where that not

adheres to England. Why, you must needs be strangers:

would you be pleased. To find a nation of

such barbarous temper. That, breaking out

in hideous violence. Would not afford you

an abode on earth. Whet their detested knives

against your throats. Spurn you like dogs,

and like as if that God. Owed not nor made not you,

nor that the claimants. Were not all appropriate

to your comforts. But chartered unto them,

what would you think. And this your

mountainish inhumanity. Shakespeare is performed

all over the world. He is translated into every language

from Albanian to Zulu. Here are scenes from two

landmark productions that opened our eyes

to his global influence. Welcome Msomi, who

brought his company to Britain in 1972 with his

Zulu Macbeth, uMabatha. The second is from Japanese

director Ninagawa's famous Cherry Blossom Macbeth

which he brought to # When, in disgrace

with fortune and men's eyes. # I all alone beweep

my outcast state. # And look upon myself

and curse my fate. # Wishing me like to

one more rich in hope. # Featured like him,

like him with friends possess'd. # Desiring this man's art

and that man's scope. # With what I most

enjoy contented least. # Yet in these thoughts

myself almost despising. # Haply I think on thee,

and then my state. # Like to the lark at

break of day arising. # From sullen earth,

sings hymns at heaven's gate. # For thy sweet love

remember'd such wealth brings. # That then I scorn to change my

state with kings # . Rufus Wainwright singing

his own version of one Shakespeare was about to

enter his fortieth year, when Queen Elizabeth the First

died in 1603. With the arrival of the new Scottish

king, James the First, Shakespeare's company was promoted,

and became The King's Men. A terrorist attack, the Gunpowder

plot, nearly succeeded in blowing up the royal family

in Parliament in 1605. The world seemed to have

lost its moorings and be adrift And this prevailing sense of doom,

of futility, is present in many of the tragedies Shakespeare

wrote at this time. These next three

scenes all take place In King Lear, we meet

an old man who has resigned his crown and been

thrown out into the storm, in Antony and Cleopatra,

the queen of Egypt prepares to confound her enemies

and end her life, but first, in Macbeth, we encounter a couple

who have just committed murder. That which hath made them

drunk hath made me bold. What hath quench'd them

hath given me fire. It was the owl that shriek'd,

the fatal bellman. The doors are open;

and the surfeited grooms. Do mock their charge

with snores: I have drugg'd. That death and nature

do contend about them. I heard the owl scream

and the crickets cry. A foolish thought,

to say a sorry sight. There's one did laugh in's

sleep, and one cried That they did wake each

other: I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers,

and address'd them. One cried 'God bless us!'

and 'Amen' the other. As they had seen me

with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear,

I could not say 'Amen'. But wherefore could not

I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of

blessing, and 'Amen' These deeds must not be thought

After these ways; so, Methought I heard a voice

cry 'Sleep no more! Sleep that knits up

the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life,

sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great

nature's second course, Still it cried 'Sleep no

more!' to all the house: 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep,

and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth

shall sleep no more.' You do unbend your noble

strength, to think. And wash this filthy

witness from your hand. Why did you bring these

daggers from the place? They must lie there: go

carry them; and smear. I'll go no more: I am afraid

to think what I have done; Give me the daggers:

the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures: 'tis

the eye of childhood If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces

of the grooms withal; How is't with me, when

every noise appals me? Will all great Neptune's

ocean wash this blood No, this my hand will

rather the multitudinous seas in incarnadine,

Making the green one red. My hands are of your

colour; but I shame I hear a knocking at the south

entry: retire we to our chamber; A little water clears

us of this deed: Your constancy Hath

left you unattended. Get on your nightgown,

lest occasion call us, Be not lost So poorly

in your thoughts. To know my deed, 'twere

best not know myself. You cataracts and

hurricanoes, spout. Till you have drench'd our steeples,

drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and

thought-executing fires. Vaunt-couriers to

oak-cleaving thunderbolts. Smite flat the thick

rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds,

all germens spill at once. Nor rain, wind, thunder,

fire, are my daughters. I tax not you, you elements,

with unkindness. I never gave you kingdom,

call'd you children. You owe me no subscription:

then let fall. Your horrible pleasure:

here I stand, your slave. A poor, infirm, weak,

and despised old man. But yet I call you servile

ministers. That have with two

pernicious daughters join'd. Your high engender'd battles

'gainst a head. So old and white

as this. No, I will be the pattern

of all patience. Finish, good lady;

the bright day is done. Immortal longings

in me: now no more. The juice of Egypt's grape

shall moist this lip. Antony call; I see

him rouse himself. Now to that name my

courage prove my title! I am fire and air;

my other elements. Come then, and take

the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian;

Iras, long farewell. If thou and nature

can so gently part. The stroke of death

is as a lover's pinch. Dissolve, thick cloud,

and rain; that I may say. He'll make demand of her,

and spend that kiss. With thy sharp teeth

this knot intrinsicate. Of life at once untie:

poor venomous fool. Dost thou not see my

baby at my breast. As sweet as balm, as soft

as air, as gentle. Now boast thee, death,

in thy possession lies. Your crown's awry; I'll

mend it, and then play. Shakespeare spent the last few years

of his life back in Stratford. He died on this day, in 1616,

his fifty-second birthday. Though it is not known exactly how

he died, a later account suggests that he had a merry

meeting with his mates, He was buried here,

at Holy Trinity Church During his life he wrote

at least 37 plays, only half of which were published

before his death. His winter years showed no let-up

in his creative output. In the last season of his life

he discovered a lighter pallet Stories that explored

the silver-lining From his last plays,

Cymbeline, The Winter's Tale and The Tempest a new redemptive

power emerged, which still has # My shroud of white,

stuck all with yew. # My part of death, no one

so true Did share it. # My poor corpse, where my

bones shall be thrown. # A thousand thousand sighs

to save, Lay me, O, where. # Sad true lover never

find my grave, To weep there # ! Shakespeare's tragedies,

haunted by death, may plumb the depths of the human experience,

but there is one character, in the canon of all his work,

which perhaps more than any One incredible comic creation

that we could not leave out tonight. The irrepressible Sir John Falstaff,

a rogue, a thief, and the close companion

of the dissolute playboy Prince Hal. From Henry IV Part One

here is the Tavern Scene, where Falstaff pretends to be

the King and gives the prince There is a thing, Harry,

which thou hast often heard of and it is known to many

in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch,

as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company

thou keepest: for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink

but in tears, not in pleasure but in passion, not in words only,

but in woes also: and yet there is a virtuous man whom I have

often noted in thy company, What manner of man,

an it like your majesty? A goodly portly man,

i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye

and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or,

by'r lady, inclining to three score; and now I remember me,

his name is Falstaff: if that man should be lewdly given,

he deceiveth me; for, Do thou stand for me,

and I'll play my father. If thou dost it half so gravely,

so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up

by the heels for a rabbit-sucker The complaints I hear

of thee are grievous. 'Sblood, my lord,

they are false: nay, I'll tickle ye for a young

prince, i' faith. Thou art violently carried away

from grace: there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat

man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse

with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness,

that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack,

that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox

with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey

iniquity, that father ruffian, Wherein is he good, but to taste

sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly,

but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein villainous,

but in all things? I would your grace would take me

with you: whom means your grace? That villanous abominable

misleader of youth, Falstaff, But to say I know more harm in him

than in myself, were to That he is old, the more the pity,

his white hairs do witness it; but that he is,

saving your reverence, If sack and sugar be a fault,

God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin,

then many an old host that I know is damned:

if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean

kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto,

banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack Falstaff,

kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant

Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being,

as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company,

banish not him thy Harry's company: banish plump Jack,

and banish all the world. As I foretold you,

were all spirits and And, like the baseless

fabric of this vision. The cloud-capp'd towers,

the gorgeous palaces. The solemn temples,

the great globe itself. Ye all which it inherit,

shall dissolve. And, like this insubstantial

pageant faded. We are such stuff As dreams are made

on, and our little life. Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch

that lies in woe. Now it is the time of night

That the graves all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths And we fairies,

that do run By the triple Hecate's

team, From the presence of the sun, not a mouse Shall

disturb this hallow'd house: I am sent with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door. Through the house give

glimmering light. By the dead and drowsy fire,

every elf and fairy sprite. # Through this house

each fairy stray. Through this palace,

with sweet peace. Give me your hands,

if we be friends, If you want to discover more about

Shakespeare, go to the website. Follow the links to the open

University.