davidbrucehaiku: DON’T FORGET THE GOOD ONES






So many scandals

And yet so many good priests

The Catholic Church


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David Bruce: William Shakespeare’s HENRY V: A Retelling in Prose — Act 3, Scene 2

— 3.2 —

Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and the boy who was their servant were at Harfleur.

Bardolph cried, “Charge! Charge! To the breach! To the breach!”

Nym objected, “Please, Corporal, wait. The blows of battle are too severe and dangerous. Speaking for myself, I do not have a pair of lives, but only one. The heat of this battle is too hot — this is plainly true and without ornamentation, just like a plain-song is the plain, simple melody without fancy variations.”

Bardolph, formerly a Lieutenant, had been demoted to Corporal.

Pistol said, “The use of ‘plain-song’ is a most just.”

He meant a mot juste, French for “exactly the right word.”

He added, “The plain truth is that the blows of battle abound in this battle.”

He sang, “Blows come and go; God’s servants drop and die; and sword and shield, in this bloody field, do win immortal fame.”

The boy said, “I wish that I were in an alehouse in London! I would trade all my chances for fame and glory for a pot of ale and safety.”

Pistol said, “So would I.”

He sang, “If wishes would prevail with me,

My purpose — my desire for ale — should not fail with me,

But thither — to an alehouse — would I hurry.”

Pistol’s singing voice was poor, and his desire to stay out of the battle was dishonorable.

The boy sang in answer to Pistol, “You sing as surely and as honorably, but not as well, as a bird without honor sings on a bough.”

On his horse, Fluellen, a Welsh Captain serving Henry V, came toward Nym, Bardolph, and Pistol, outraged that they were not fighting in the battle. The boy was too young to fight, but he was supposed to stay in the English camp and guard the tents.

Fluellen shouted, “Up to the breach, you dogs! Hurry, you gonads!”

Fluellen drove Nym, Bardolph, and Pistol forward.

Moving forward as slowly as Fluellen would allow him, Pistol pleaded, “Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mold. We are made of clay, just as the Bible says. Abate your rage, abate your manly rage — abate your rage, great Duke!”

As he did so frequently, Pistol was using his poor knowledge of Latin poorly. By “Duke,” he meant Dux, which is Latin for “leader.”

Pistol continued to plead, “Good and fine fellow, abate your rage; be lenient, good lad!”

Nym said to Fluellen, “This is a poor change of mood! We were in a good mood, but you are putting us in a bad mood!”

Fluellen used his whip to make the three men race to the front, leaving the boy behind.

The boy said to himself, “As young as I am, I have closely observed these three swashers and swaggerers: Nym, Bardolph, and Pistol. I am boy — that is, a young servant — to all three of them, but all three of them, if they should ever serve me, could not be man — a grown-up male servant — to me because all these three clowns put together do not amount to a single man.

“As for Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced — he is a cowardly alcoholic. Because he has a red face, people think that he is hot-tempered, and so he outfaces his opponents in battles and quarrels, but he does not fight. He prefers to act like a fighter rather than actually fight.

“As for Pistol, he has a killing tongue and a quiet, peaceful sword. He prefers to brag big and fight not even a little. He breaks his words, and he keeps his weapons whole. The battles he fights are verbal, and he does not keep his promises, and his sword is never broken because he does not use it in battle.

“As for Nym, he has heard that men of few words are the best men; he has heard the proverb vir sapit qui pauca loquitur— ‘a wise man is one who does not talk much.’ Therefore, Nym is scornful of and does not say his prayers, lest he should be thought a coward. However, his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds and deeds of valor. He never broke any man’s head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk.

“These three men will steal anything, and call it a purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, carried it for 36 English miles, and then sold it for a penny and a half. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, aka stealing, and in a town they stole a fire shovel. I knew by that piece of work that the men would carry coals. To carry coals is figurative language for to do degrading, humiliating, and insulting work and to submit to degrading, humiliating, and insulting treatment.

“They would have me as familiar with men’s pockets as the men’s gloves or handkerchiefs. They want me to become a pickpocket and become familiar with the inside of other people’s pockets. This goes much against my sense of what it is to be a man. If I should take something from another person’s pocket so that I can put it into my pocket, it would be a plain pocketing up of wrongs. To pocket up wrongs is figurative language for to be guilty of stealing and to submit to insults — such as being called a thief. I must leave these three men, and seek some better service with some better men. These three men’s villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must throw it — my job and the contents of my stomach — up.”

The boy returned to the English camp.

Meanwhile, Fluellen and Gower, who was an English Captain, were talking. Fluellen, the Welsh Captain, had a heavy accent. He sometimes pronounced the letter blike the letter p, the letter flike the letter v, and the letter jlike the letters ch. He also tended to use fancy words, frequently use synonyms, and repeat the unnecessary phrase “look you.” The Irish Captain, Macmorris, and the Scottish Captain, Jamy, also had heavy accents.

Captain Gower had been searching for Fluellen. Having found him, he said, “Captain Fluellen, you must come immediately to the tunnels that we are building under the besieged city’s walls so that we can use explosives to blow them up. The Duke of Gloucester needs to speak with you.”

“You want me to go to the tunnels!” Fluellen said. “Tell the Duke that it is not so good for me to come to the tunnels because, look you, the tunnels have not been constructed according to the disciplines of the war: The concavities [hollowness] of the tunnels are not sufficient [good enough], for, look you, the athversary [adversary], you may discuss this with the Duke, look you, has himself dug tunnels four yards underneath the tunnels we have dug. By Cheshu [Jesu, aka Jesus], I think he will plow [blow] up all our tunnels, if better orders are not given.”

Captain Gower replied, “The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the plan of action of the siege has been given, is being advised by an Irishman who is truly a very valiant gentleman.”

“He is Captain Macmorris, isn’t he?”

“I think that is him.”

“By Cheshu [Jesu, aka Jesus], he is an ass, as much an ass as any ass in the world. I will verify as much in his beard [I will tell him that to his face]. He has no more directions in [knowledge of] the true disciplines of the wars, of the Roman disciplines, look you, than does a puppydog.”

Captain Macmorris, the Irish Captain, accompanied by Jamy, the Scottish Captain, rode up on their horses.

Captain Gower said, “Here he comes; and the Scots Captain, Jamy, is with him.”

Captain Fluellen said, “Captain Jamy is a marvelous falourous [valorous] gentleman, that is certain; and he is of great expedition [quick action] and has great knowledge of the aunchient [ancient] wars, as I know from my particular and personal knowledge of his orders. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument [keep up his part in a discussion] in a conversation about the disciplines of the pristine [flawless and perfectly executed, and ancient] wars of the Romans as well as any military man in the world.”

Captain Jamy, the Scottish Captain, said, “I say gud-day [good day], Captain Fluellen.”

Captain Fluellen replied, “God-den [Good evening] to your worship, good Captain James.”

Captain Gower asked, “How are you, Captain Macmorris! Have you quit the digging of the tunnels? Have the pioneers — the diggers of the tunnels — stopped their work?”

Captain Macmorris replied, “By Chrish [Christ], la! T’ish [It is] ill done: the work ish give over [is given up], the trompet [trumpet] sounds the order to retreat. By my hand, I swear, and by my father’s soul, the work ish [is] ill done; it ish give over [we have given it up]. If the trumpet had not sounded the order to retreat, I would have blowed [blown] up the town, so Chrish save me — la! — in an hour. Oh, t’ish ill done! T’ish ill done; I swear by my hand, t’ish ill done!”

Captain Fluellen said, “Captain Macmorris, I beg you now, will you voutsafe [vouchsafe, aka grant] me, look you, a few disputations [discussions] with you, as partly touching [regarding] or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline; that is the point.”

Captain Jamy, the Scot, said, “It sall [shall] be vary gud [very good], in gud faith [in good faith, aka truly], gud [good] Captains bath [both]: and I sall ’quit [shall requite, aka answer] you with gud leve [with good leave, aka with your permission], as I may pick occasion [as I have the opportunity] that sall [shall] I, marry [by Mother Mary].”

Captain Macmorris said, “It is no time to discourse [This is not a time for conversation], so Chrish [Christ] save me: The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the Dukes, everyone is busy fighting, and it is no time to discourse. The town is beseeched [besieged], and now the trumpet calls on us to go on attack at the breach; and we talk, and, by Chrish [Christ], we do nothing. It is a shame for us all, so God sa’ [save] me, it is a shame to stand still; it is a shame, I swear by my hand because there are throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish [is] nothing done, so Chrish sa’ [save] me, la!”

Captain Jamy said, “By the mess [Mass], ere theise [before these] eyes of mine take themselves to slomber [slumber; that is, before I go to sleep tonight] ay’ll [I’ll] do gud [good] service, or ay’ll lie i’ the grund for it [or I’ll lie in my grave]. Ay [I] owe Got [God] a death; and ay’ll [I’ll] pay it as valorously as I can, that sall [shall] I surely do, that is the breff [brief] and the long [aka the long and the short of it]. Marry [By Mother Mary], I wad full fain hear [I would very much like to hear] some question [discussion] between you tway [two].”

Captain Fluellen said, “Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction [correct me if I’m wrong], there are not many of your nation —”

Captain Macmorris was quick to take offense, and he misunderstood Fluellen and took offense too quickly as Fluellen had said nothing wrong: “Of my nation! What ish [is] my nation? Ish [You are] a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish [is] my nation? Who talks of [about] my nation?”

Captain Fluellen replied, “Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure [perhaps] I shall think you do not use [treat] me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use [treat] me, look you, since I am as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.”

Captain Macmorris said, “I do not know that you are so good a man as myself. Chrish [Christ] save me, I will cut off your head.”

Captain Gower said, “Gentlemen, both of you are misunderstanding each other.”

Captain Jamy said, “A! [Aye! aka Yes!] That’s a foul fault.”

A trumpet sounded, blowing the notes for a parley — a meeting between the leaders of the opposing forces.

Captain Gower said, “That is a trumpet from the town. The leader of Harfleur has ordered a trumpeter to sound a parley.”

Captain Fluellen said, “Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required [when a better time presents itself], look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end.”


Copyright by Bruce D. Bruce; All Rights Reserved


David Bruce: Letters Anecdotes

During the Revolutionary War, John Adams went to Paris to represent the new United States to the French government. Separated from his wife, Abigail, he wrote her many, many letters. However, the tone of the letters was formal and cold, unlike the warm, affectionate letters he had sent her while they were separated in the United States. Why the formal, cold tone? Mr. Adams was afraid that enemy warships would intercept American or French ships carrying his letters, and that the enemy would ridicule the letters. Despite this reason for the formal, cold tone of the letters, Mr. Adams had made a big mistake, and his wife let him know it in no uncertain terms. She wrote him, “By heaven, … you have changed hearts with some frozen Laplander, or made a voyage to a region that has chilled every drop of your blood. The affection I feel for my friend [a term Abigail called her husband] is of the tenderest kind. Angels can witness to its purity — what care I then for the ridicule of Britain should this testimony of it fall into its hands?” Mr. Adams’ letters to his wife quickly regained their usual warm, affectionate tone.

During World War I, Russian soldiers took Waldo Bahmann and two other German soldiers prisoner on September 2, 1916. The Russians treated the Germans well, and a Russian officer asked each German soldier for the address of his relatives, saying that he would send the addresses to his parents, who lived in Petrograd, and they would send the addresses to the Red Cross, who would let their families know that they were alive. The Russian officer said, “Then your dear ones will not have such prolonged fear and anxiety, for nothing is more terrible than the report ‘missing.’” In 1918, after Mr. Bahmann had returned home after being released from captivity, he looked through some of his mother’s documents, and he found a postcard from Russia that announced that he had been captured, but was in good health in Russia. Mr. Bahmann’s mother had received the postcard before the Red Cross had gotten around to him, so the source of the information had to come from the Russian officer’s parents.

In 1942, the Toronto Maple Leafs were down 3-0 in the best-of-seven Stanley Cup playoffs, and no one thought the Maple Leafs had a chance to win because no team had ever come back from a 3-0 deficit to win. Well, one fan did. A 14-year-old girl wrote the coach to say that she was confident that the team could rally to win the series and that she would be praying for the Maple Leafs. Maple Leaf coach Hap Day read the fan’s letter to his team, and the players dedicated themselves to winning. They rallied to win four games in a row and to win the Stanley Cup — the first team ever to do so.

Composer Franz Joseph Haydn married a woman who was difficult to get along with, and he was happy when his work took him away from her for long periods of time. During one occasion when Mr. Haydn was long away from his wife, a visitor asked him about several unopened letters piled up on his desk. Mr. Haydn replied, “They’re from my wife. We write to each other every month, but I don’t bother to open her letters, and I’m sure she doesn’t open mine.”

Stan Lee offered a genuine NO-PRIZE to Marvel comicbook readers who were sharp enough to spot a typographical or other embarrassing error. To each of these intelligent readers, Mr. Lee sent an empty envelope bearing the words “CONGRATULATIONS! This envelope contains a genuine Marvel Comics NO-PRIZE, which you have just won!” These envelopes are now collectors’ items.

Children’s book author Peg Kehret occasionally gets letters from children, and she likes the ones that come from her fans. The letters that are signed “Your #1 fan” or that include a list of books by Ms. Kehret that the child has read she tries to promptly answer. Unfortunately, occasionally a letter will come from a child who wants her to write back, but the child did not include a return address.

The Soviet secret police once interrogated a Russian Jew about a man he had been writing in Israel. The Jew explained that the man he was writing was his brother and not a spy. The secret police told the Jew that it was illegal to correspond with anyone who lived abroad. The Jew thought for a moment and replied, “My brother is at home — I am abroad.”

After James McNeill Whistler’s painting of his mother (Arrangement in Grey and Black: Portrait of the Painter’s Mother) became famous, he was asked to visit America. He declined the invitation, writing, “One hates to disappoint a continent.”

Bette Midler has large breasts. She once told a concert audience that she had weighed them on a postal scale, adding, “I won’t tell you how much they weigh, but it would cost $87.50 to ship them to Brazil. Third class.”

Richard Wagner once wrote a fan letter to Ludwig van Beethoven. Unfortunately, by that time Beethoven was deaf and didn’t hear the postman’s knocking, so the letter was thrown away.

While in prison, Fidel Castro made a mistake by writing his wife and his mistress on the same day. The prison censor read both letters, then he put the letters back in the wrong envelopes.

Ohio Senator Stephen M. Young once received a letter that was short and to the point: “Do something.” Senator Young’s reply was also short and to the point: “I did. I read your letter.”

King Frederick the Great was on his deathbed, so he said to the Queen, “Dorothy, write to your brother that I forgive him all the evil he has done me; but wait until I am dead first.”

A man once asked Speaker of the House Tom Reed what he should do about anonymous letters. Congressmen Reed replied, “I never answer them.”


Copyright by Bruce D. Bruce; All Rights Reserved


Edgar Lee Masters: Mrs. Charles Bliss and Rev. Lemuel Wiley (Spoon River Anthology)

Mrs. Charles Bliss

REVEREND WILEY advised me not to divorce him
For the sake of the children,
And Judge Somers advised him the same.
So we stuck to the end of the path.
But two of the children thought he was right,
And two of the children thought I was right.
And the two who sided with him blamed me,
And the two who sided with me blamed him,
And they grieved for the one they sided with.
And all were torn with the guilt of judging,
And tortured in soul because they could not admire
Equally him and me.
Now every gardener knows that plants grown in cellars
Or under stones are twisted and yellow and weak.
And no mother would let her baby suck
Diseased milk from her breast.
Yet preachers and judges advise the raising of souls
Where there is no sunlight, but only twilight,
No warmth, but only dampness and cold—
Preachers and judges!


Rev. Lemuel Wiley

I PREACHED four thousand sermons,
I conducted forty revivals,
And baptized many converts.
Yet no deed of mine
Shines brighter in the memory of the world,
And none is treasured more by me:
Look how I saved the Blisses from divorce,
And kept the children free from that disgrace,
To grow up into moral men and women,
Happy themselves, a credit to the village.