Now is the winter of our discontent

Listening to the latest news on the radio about the episodes in Greece,coming back from the Nutcracker’s performance, came to my mind Shakespeare’s tragedies and particularly ‘Richard III’ which was the playwright’s view of the state of the English nation during the Wars of the Roses. I don’t know why an English tragedy came to mind and not a Greek one. Perhaps, because the tragedy is not only Greek .. !

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up,
About a prophecy, which says that ‘G’
Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comes.


2 thoughts on “Now is the winter of our discontent

    • Ο θυμός είναι τόσο οικείο συναίσθημα για τον Ελληνα είναι πανταχού παρών και τα πάντα πληρών……. και η κινητήριος δύναμη να μετατραπεί κάποιος σε δευτερόλεπτα σε δολοφόνο. Λυπάμαι αφάνταστα για τέτοιου είδους δολοφονίες είτε είναι βραζιλιάνων μετανάστων στο Λονδίνο ή εφήβων στην Αθήνα …

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