Showing posts with label King Henry IV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Henry IV. Show all posts

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Within the book and volume of my brain

List, list, O, LIST

While I was working through the last 41 weeks of memorization exercises, I've had this paper taped to my closet door. It's just a chronological list of all Shakespeare's plays. Every time I read a play, I highlighted it in pink. Every time I learned a speech, I added a blue dot next to it. When I reached my goal, I snipped the paper into candy-colored strips, each with a play on it, and threw them into a bag. Now, every evening, I randomly select a strip from the bag and practice it a bit before bed, then proceed to spend my morning and afternoon commute to work reciting to myself, usually with the accompaniment of some old-school, wordless M83 songs.

Some are as easy to recall as that first "To be" speech; others require more polishing, as very often the one I grab from the bag is one I haven't revisited in so many weeks. But so far, this rehash activity has proven fruitful. Just yesterday, after a few weeks of this practice, I dumped the pile of re-visited speeches onto my bed and proceeded to pick one up, recite, then pick another and another until they were all gone. It took a half hour, and I did it with only one cheat: it was to make sure Hamlet said "my uncle" and not "mine uncle" in his first soliloquy.

My fear near the end was that I'd forget some of the less favorited speeches, so doing this both confirmed and destroyed that fear, since practice really is the silver bullet when it comes to achieving any level of proficiency at anything. (Plus, I've surprised myself that I even have enough room in my mental hard drive lately, since a large percentage of RAM has been dedicated solely to squeeing over Benedict Cumberbatch again.)

Obviously, this thing is not over.

I still have a mental list of speeches I'd like to still learn:
1) Hamlet's third soliloquy
2) John of Gaunt's speech about England in Richard II
3) Berowne's epic 77-line rave about love from LLL
4) Prince Hal's plea to his father about redemption in Henry IV Part 1
5) Ophelia's "What a noble mind is here o'erthrown" speech

I wonder if any of my readers could suggest any others for my tackling pleasure?

The longer the achievement, the more apt I am to unlock them. I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps it's just the meditative quality of a good, lengthy thought process that keeps my brain at attention for so long and serves to defrag it or something. Maybe it impresses me more deeply because it seems so intimidating when you see it on paper, but turns out to be quite natural once it's uploaded to my brain. Whatever the reason, it's always fun.

Has anyone else given this a go?

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Speak the speech, I pray you: 5 quick and dirty tips to maximize memorization


I just started my 41st speech this week. No, I'm not done yet, so don't bust out the tankards of mead and cups of sack quite yet. I've doubled up on a few (quadrupled on Hamlet), so I have handful left before I reach my goal of at least one speech from each play. I felt this a good time to begin imparting some wisdom to anyone who might be inclined to try this on their own.


1) Practice every goddamned day. I start on Sunday with a new speech. I find it is best to learn the whole thing all in one go, and then over successive days, I progressively wean myself from checking the text every other line until I get more confident with it. I tried breaking up longer speeches up into eight- or ten-line bites over four days... but very few of them are so long that I feel I must do that to keep my sanity. I did Richard III's monstrosity over several days early on in the project, but did Richard II's behemoth much more quickly. Soon enough, shorties (20 lines or less) became a piece of the proverbial cake. Cram before bed, when your brain is ripe for filing away new things. Practice in your shower. Practice in your car on your way to or from work. No one will judge you there.

2) Say it out loud. Turn your speech into an earworm. Just like a catchy song you hear fifteen times on the radio at work, the speech will follow you around better if you know how your own voice sounds reciting it. Say it without a sound. Mouthing the words without giving them voice helps develop muscle memory. You tend to exaggerate it when you voicelessly recite, but I've found it opens you up to delivering it more clearly and effortlessly when you voice it again. It's like isometric exercise for your tongue.

3) Watch or listen to actors delivering the speeches you choose. I cannot tell you how much more easy it was to memorize speeches that were already done for me. Sir Kenneth Branagh's recitation of Hamlet's fourth soliloquy ("My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!") will never sop rolling around in my brain. Ben Whishaw's Richard II sitting on the sunny shore of his England as his voice fights the breeze will forever inform my delivery of his monologue about the death of kings. I will never not think of Tom Hiddleston soliloquizing as Prince Hal in King Henry IV Part One. They are more than just pretty faces to me ;)

4) Research the character. Research the vocabulary. Never try to recite anything out of context. Find out what is supposed to be motivating the character and keep it at the forefront of your mind. For each speech, I read the corresponding chapter in Marjorie Garber's "Shakespeare After All" just so I'd recall the plot and get more in depth analysis of characters. Look up every unfamiliar word or phrase. It'll all come more naturally if you know what the bloody hell you're actually saying. Memorization is a party trick. Comprehension takes work. We're here for enrichment of our brains, not for boot camp drills.

5) Choose speeches that intrigue you. At first, this is simple. There are so many speeches on the menu. But after a while, you're bound to hit plays that don't enthuse as much as others, or you simply aren't familiar with them at all. If you can't find something that you like, you're not going to spend as much time with it and you'll lose interest. I've read every play and highlighted the bejesus out of my old paperback copy of the Complete Works, so I could always spot a passage that got my attention and analyze it for potential memorization material. If you lack such a personalized resource, I recommend checking http://www.shakespeare-monologues.org for worthy suggestions.


This will take more than 40 weeks. I don't think I'll be satisfied with myself until a year passes. I took a few breaks to give myself a chance to review old speeches and just because real life carries you away sometimes.

I've already chosen my final speech--one that I think will test all my skills and patience. It's Shakespeare's longest soliloquy, and it marks the return of that trusty bastard Richard Gloucester in his salad days during Henry VI Part Three. 71 lines of pure, uncut soliloquizing. I can't wait!

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow?

Jeremy Irons as Henry IV in BBC's Hollow Crown series
Henry IV is losing it--and by "it" I mean not just his sanity, but his hold on his own kingdom. Sure, he defeated Northumberland's rebellion and his previously disreputable son grew a set and killed Hotspur, but the Archbishop's already got a conspiracy brewing against him and both Wales and France are getting ornery. Shit is getting real, and he thinks his son has reverted back to his previous dissipation and cares not for his well-being. The exact opposite is true, but Hal knows that suddenly appearing to be concerned would look hypocritical to the max.

Still, the moment Hal is summoned with news that his father is deathly ill, he races to his bedside to be alone with him and his not-so-surprisingly deep thoughts. The supreme irony of the Henry IV plays is that Hal knows more about the burden of the crown than anybody else--save Richard II, whose experience within the "hollow crown" is intimately disillusioned for most of his play--as this quiet, touching monologue proves. I'm a bit miffed at being cheated of the whole speech in the BBC's Hollow Crown episode--I would have loved to have heard more of Tom Hiddleston's dulcet whisperings--but it catches the drift.

My favorite bit is "When thou dost pinch thy bearer, Thou dost sit like a rich armour worn in heat of day, That scaldst with safety." Richard's own earlier assessment is that within the crown "Keeps Death his court... scoffing [the king's] state and grinning at his pomp," and that the mortal flesh of a king is believed to be "brass impregnable" that can in fact be breached by a "little pin." Both of these young men have realized their hard truth about power in very different ways, and it serves them with opposing results. One is deposed, the other, renowned. But they both die prematurely--one murdered, one diseased from war. Such is the price of encompassing the crown.

Between them, we peasants are privy to a unique insight about what it is to hold "divine" power.


2 King Henry IV, Act IV, Sc. V
Prince Henry: Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night! sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet
As he whose brow with homely biggen bound
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!
This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep
That from this golden rigol hath divorced
So many English kings. Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which, as immediate as thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,
Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me: this from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.