Well, I'm dying for the last time in the Shakespeare Game (I mentioned it once a lont time ago) this semester. This class is just fun. I loved Shakespeare coming in, and so have appreciated the chance to read three plays with others who love Shakespeare, too.

Here's the final speech I posted:

What thou blushes at? Thine own shame. What makes thine knobby knees knock about? The sound of mine name.

Hamlet's words flow easier than mine own, and fit the time as well as any perfectly played melody.

Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
leaves, what is't to leave betimes?

I determined to know thine name, which I now declare is John de Vere, 13th Earl of Oxford.

You are right in saying that I am.

But, with the Dane, I am resolved to rest in the arms of the Almighty God. Certainly, you do not believe that I can be shaken, or frightened, or alarmed at this my death? Or at you my killer?

No, for I know that there is a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.

And here, at my end, I will not struggle against the Almighty's providence. Nor will I shy away from my heart's desire! Indeed, your cackling at my passing seems to be misplaced, and to be hidden both from the light of faith and reason. Hear the words of the Philosopher:

For I deem that the true disciple of philosophy is likely to be misunderstood by other men; they do not perceive that he is ever pursuing death and dying; and if this is true, why, having had the desire of death all his life long, should he repine at the arrival of that which he has been always pursuing and desiring?

No, I will not faint away from this my glorious entrance into the further life. The veil is lifting, soon I will behold a glorious light, to fill and pierce my soul eternally. For, unlike Socrates, I am entering into the Peace beyond time, the Tri-une God of Revelation:

That light doth so transform a man's whole bent
That never to another sight or thought
Would he surrender, with his own consent;

For everything the will has ever sought
Is gathered there, and there is every quest
Made perfect, which apart from it falls short.

You see, your act, though stemming from hate, works the mercy of the Lord upon my soul.

Yet, be warned the Providence of whom you are an instrument, and upon which I base my future hope is two edged. God dispenses Grace freely on those who beseech it, but it deals justice harshly on those who spurn this Grace!

And it will not be withheld forever, for now in my last moment, I take upon me the role of Margaret of Anjou, and speak prophecies regarding the failure of your low-born house. I can see in my mind's eye the fall of York from the crown, as Jesus once saw Satan fall from heaven. And my fellow Lancastrians, standing on Christ's own behalf for the true king of England, his political regent on this earth, are empowered to trample on you scorpion's and serpents. Such is your house! Such is your lowest (yet greatest): the ignoble Richard III is the very archetype of your morality! Therefore heed my words of caution and beware the ghosts of your past sins. The souls of those you've wronged will not be silent.

Nor will the God who sees the fall of his innocent sparrow.


As for the rest,

The rest is silence.
















Silent, that is, except for this! In the style of Eliot, I give helpful Footnotes:
1. Hamlet, 5.2.
2. Luke 22:70 (I use the words of Jesus not to blaspheme, but to indicate that while they understand who I am, it does not follow that I am worthy of death)
3. Hamlet, 5.2.
4. Plato, Phaedo.
5. Dante, Paradiso, XIII. 100 - 106. trans. Sayers (these lines run roughly)
6. Luke 10:18, 19.
7. Hamlet, 5.2.

(Bubbs quotes don't really translate into Blogger: bold italics are the person accusing me, and italics are the footnoted quotes.)