THE BARD AT VILLIERS

Frank and I share a warm Seasonal drink

on Christmas morning 2005 at Doonass

.

ENTER...STAGE RIGHT !

As regular Hermonites will recall I am often enthralled by my Uncle Franks prodigious memory for long ago learned pieces of poetry that he pulls from his hat like a literary conjurer,sometimes when you least expect it(see Mar21,June13,'o7 blogs). This morning I bumped into Frank as I was leaving a message at Bridie's (my aunt) place,and he was standing at his doorway on an overcast grey Monday chatting to one of his neighbours. Bridie and Frank live in individual apartments in the beautiful 19th century setting of Villiers Square which overlooks the Curraghour Falls and that famous landmark of Limerick, the Treaty Stone. Ironically enough Frank first saw the light of day just across the river at Castleview terrace, almost in view from his present abode. Stopping to exchange a few words with Frank we stepped inside and I spotted a newspaper supplement on Shakespeare lying on the table and of course our talk wandered down a literary path.I vainly tried to impress with a few remembered lines from sonnets I had learned at school, Frank listened patiently but I could see a more substantial rendition of the great Bards work was hatching in his head. He did not disappoint and in the pause you'd take for a breath he commenced...

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,

Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,

And for thy maintenance commits his body

To painful labour both by sea and land,

To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,

Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;

And craves no other tribute at thy hands

But love, fair looks and true obedience;

Too little payment for so great a debt.

Such duty as the subject owes the prince

Even such a woman oweth to her husband;

And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,

And not obedient to his honest will,

What is she but a foul contending rebel

And graceless traitor to her loving lord?

The Taming of the Shrew Act 5 Scene 2

What a speech on a gloomy Monday in the shadow of King Johns Castle, a suitable setting for one of Shakespeare's dramas. Fortunately there wasn't a single female within earshot of this recitation and to all our fair-sexed readers I offer poetic license as my disclaimer! After his performance Frank reminisced about his sojournings in the area of The Globe theatre in London, visiting the birthplace of Dick Whittington (London's first mayor) and working beside the towering Saint Paul's Cathedral.Once again I am sent scurrying through the Internet playing catch-up to this mans phenomenal memory and grasp of our rich literary heritage!

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Gerard O'Shea