#the one shakespeare line was like 'oh what fools these mortals be' which is kind of a far cry from the sayings

[fisksaturday]

the phrase “mortals/immortals and fools” has to be FROM something but when i google it all that comes up is “mortals and fools” from the death note musical (good song) and the “time travel is for immortals and fools” line from ben 10

there’s also a book titled “fools and mortals” about shakespeare’s younger brother but that came out in 2017 after both the death note musical and ben 10. what the fuck where am i

[baby-grayson]

Dirty Little Secret|Part 4

Summary: Felicity struggles with the idea of giving Ethan her virginity.

Tags: @wheezeatmedolans​ @evergreendolan​ @graysonsdollface​ @imfeelindol​ @dolansficsandpics​ @prettyboydolan​ @voidmalfoy​ @blindedbythelightt​ @guiltydols @sunshineforgray​

Words: 2.6k  (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

tw: this part gets smutty

Lord, what fools these mortals be! 

A Mid Summer Night’s Dream: Act 3, Scene 2

“Famous,” Ethan turned from the board, his arm still hanging in the air from where he pulled off with his marker, “For two reasons.” He let his arm casually swing down to this side as he took his favorite seat at the edge of his desk. The room was full of hurried pens as he spoke, “Firstly, because it captures the exaggerated silliness of the two lovers, something that seems so foolish to anyone on the outside but makes a lot of sense to them.” He surveyed the room and let his eyes fall on Felicity, who looks up at him and feels her thighs tighten together, as if being pulled by an invisible, tense string. “And secondly because, it emphasizes the differences between the fairies, who are whimsical and sexual and ...” he waved his hand in the air and took his gaze away from Felicity, “And never serious and the people, who are becoming the victims of their own emotional waves.” He turned back to the board to go back to writing in his thick, black marker. 

//

The smooth, cold metal of his desk pressed against her thighs as she tried to ground herself from the clouds he was sending her to. She threw her hands behind her, resting on them as she craned her neck upward to reach Ethan’s lips, needing to drink in every drop of him. Ethan bowed his head down, slowing her sweet kisses into deep, sensual dances between his tongue and her lips.

His long, manly fingers worked their way down her torso from where she sat on his desk. He trailed his hand down into her skirt while he gently sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She let out a mew and pulled his head closer to him from where she wrapped her fingers in his hair. He started to stroke the edge of her panties, feeling a distinct wet spot at her core. He smirked into their kiss and leaned forward, spreading her legs with his thigh. He pulled out of their kiss with a dark look in his eye.

//

ORDER AND DISORDER: he wrote it on the board in large letters, trying to let the size of the words communicate their importance. “One of Shakespeare’s most prolific themes,” Ethan paced across the front of the classroom casually, “Nearly every one of his stories start with a world in completely stability,” he turned to face the class, “that eventually falls into a world of chaos due to the events in the story.” 

//

He reached one hand down to help hike up her skirt, pressing more of her soft skin against his clothed thigh. She moaned softly into his mouth and softly bit his bottom lip between her teeth, “Ethan,” she whispered before he covered her mouth with his and licked the inside of her bottom lip. His fingertips played against the wet spot on her panties, feeling her wet folds through the cotton fabric. He dragged his entire hand down the length of her panties and pulled out of their kiss, looking down to see his fingers get moist from rubbing her, “Fuck,” he looked with a darkness in his eyes. His voice was low and caught in his threat,  “You’re such a good girl.”

//

Nadia raised her hand so swiftly that her blonde bangs bounced against her forehead, “Sir,” she started eagerly, “Would you say that the society falls into disorder itself?” She immediately lowered her hand to continue taking notes in blue ink. 

Ethan nodded, “Good Question,” he sent a kind smile in Nadia’s direction. Felicity flattened her lips into a tight line. He went on lecture, “It’s important to note the distinction here- please write this down,” he waved his hands in the air in front of him as he spoke, “The society itself will always stand- at least, according to Shakespeare-- but the lives of our main characters avalanche into disorder as they break apart under the weight of the consequences of their strong emotions and charged decisions.”

//

His tongue was warm and lithe, licking the sliver of her core that was exposed from where he pulled her panties to the side. At first, Felicity struggled to do anything but moan indistinguishable words and quickly slap her hand to her knee, that had started shaking while she opened her legs to make more room for Ethan’s tongue. 

Ethan’s hands left her hips and make quick work of slipping her panties off and letting them drop onto his desk chair. He lapped his tongue against her, tasting her while she bit her lip and hissed out his name. “You like that?” his words were muffled as he pressed his mouth against her. Felicity shook her head quickly and frantically, with heavy breaths, “Uh huh”

//

“Hey Felicity!” 

“Wha-What?” She snapped her head to face Jasmine, who was looking less than amused with her. She tried to blink away her own imagination, realizing that Jasmine must have been trying to get her attention for longer than a few seconds, “What’s up?”

Jasmine furrowed her brow, not hiding her frustration with her friend behind her veil of attitude, she turned to her eyes to the board and Felicity followed to read their instructions. 

“Oh,” Felicity started, “Sorry, must’ve been--I’m tired today.” 

Jasmine rolled her eyes lightly to the side, “Whatever, can I see your notes?” When Felicity passed her notebook across the table, Jasmine made quick work of comparing and contrasting their notes as Felicity bit her lip and looked back the board. She felt bad for not realizing they were in the middle of a class assignment. She read the instructions a third time before letting her gaze reach Ethan, who was standing by the podium and pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 

There was something regal about him: the way his face was so handsomely distinguished. Felicity’s face turned a faint color of blush while she focused on his lips: that looked luscious and pink at the moment but beckoned forth memories of them being pump, red, and wet. She snapped her thighs together and looked up at the ceiling, trying to sanitize her mind. 

//

Ethan pulled his face away from her core. Felicity stared at him with something sad in her eyes while he moved away from her. Her skirt was bunched around her waist like a thick belt, with all of her exposed for him. He reached for his belt buckle, nearly mumbling, “Do you want to?”

She sucked in a harsh breath that triggered him to look up from the fastenings of his pants. 

“Uh,” Felicity’s bottom lip quivered before she smacked it against her top lip. She brought her thighs together when she started to tangle her ankles, the plastic sole of one shoe rubbing against the other. 

Ethan took his hands off of his pants and looked at her skeptically. 

//

“We see this in nearly the entirety of his body of work,” Ethan took a sip from his coffee cup before moving toward the board to start writing, “Whether it’s Macbeth’s overambition, Hamlet seeking revenger, or Otelho’s feelings of betrayal,” he wrote in shorthand so his hand could keep up with his words, “Their individual emotions lead to their demise. They feel so strongly, that they blind themselves of logic and send their life into chaos.”

He turned to face the class, capping the marker and leaving it on the tray. “Any Questions?” 

Felicity looked down at her notes and back up to Ethan. She looked down at her notes, a direct copy of what was on the board, and chewed at her lip. She was lost in thought when Nadia raised her hand from across the classroom to ask, “Is there a pattern for what happens after everything falls into chaos?” 

Felicity sucked on her top lip and sighed to herself, knowing that in any other scenario she would be the one asking intellectual, analytical questions if it wasn’t for Ethan’s face and voice constantly echoing in her mind. 

“Great question Nadia,” Ethan flashed a smile at the blonde that triggered something to twinge inside of Felicity. “When order is restored, which is often is to some degree, there will always be reminders of how things fell into chaos.”  

“Can you give us an example?” Jasmine’s tone was slightly fresh, speaking out of turn, but her casual tone always held a note of attitude.  Ethan nodded, “Sure, take the Merchant of Venice, for instance, it’s not on our reading list per say but it’s in his body of work.” Ethan spoke with his hands, as if he was imagining a miniature stage and actors in front of him, “Shylock- he slumps away in defeat after losing his court case, which is the end of Shakespeare’s disorder. But it’s when he leaves that we see how truly nasty the townspeople are,” Ethan waved his hands and licked his lips, trying to choose careful worlds, “Shakespeare makes this point by showing how quickly they accept an....anti-Semitic character.” He swallowed, “He’s uh-not very subtle at showing those reminders of chaos, the last scene in any of your works will be full of them.” 

//

Felicity quickly fled from Ethan’s office with blushed cheeks and messy hair. She bit her lip when she got to the stairwell, replaying her goodbye. She had been polite, nice, sure but there was no doubt that Ethan was confused. He’d gone from ready to penetrate, to perturbed at her reaction to his offer. Felicity huffed and started down the stairs, feeling a humidity between her thighs that reminded her of her panties, left on Ethan’s desk chair. 

When she swung the door to the building open, the cold air helped to calm her anxiety of the autumn wind hit her face. She shivered, wearing a chunky knit sweater with holes in the pattern that left most of her arms exposed. She sighed and started down the sidewalk, not sure if she was walking to the library, the coffeeshop, or home. She trusted her feet to find a path to solace. 

She obsessed over it for the rest of the day: sleeping with Ethan. The thought made her go dry at the mouth. Sure, she wanted him, any woman with eyes and enough hormones would want him. She had been envisioning them together when she laid alone in her bed at night.

And yet, that night, when she was again alone in her bed, no images of Ethan’s body greeted her in her dreams. Instead, she was forced to struggle with the fact that she was a virgin, who was considering making her first foray into the sexual world her Shakespeare professor- or well, professor for the time being. Anxiety kept her tossing and turning, torn between what she wanted but wasn’t ready to face. 

Ethan was older, more experienced, classically good looking: she was sure he had his fair share of practice. Surely he would be good, but she could barely decipher if she knew how to tell what good was in this situation. She wanted him, she had decided on that. 

 But the idea of looking him in the eye and admitting her truth to him-it made her brain catch on fire. There were too many feelings involved in that process: shame, honesty, vulnerability. She decided that she most definitely, did not want to confront Ethan with her truth. 

She made this complex decision in the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning. Somewhere in the hours of contemplation, Ethan became her Ethan. Her memories of his brown eyes turned into something fonder, something that lingered when she thought of him. She started to want more than just for him to touch her, she wanted him to hold her. 

When the first rays of sunshine peaked through her window, she lifted herself from bed to take a cold shower and sort through her hair. She pulled out a curling iron that she hadn’t used since her senior prom and took the time to delicate curl the ends of her hair to bounce onto her shoulder. She must of touched every piece of clothing she owned, asking herself if it was good enough for the day. She sat down and huffed when she realized that dressing for the occasion meant blowing their cover. 

Slightly frustrated, she picked out a flouncy skirt and a thin long sleeve with the tease of a v-neck and grabbed her purse. She nearly jumped when it started buzzing, she dug her phone out to find a text from Jasmine, asking to borrow her notes from the end of class. 

Felicity rolled her eyes and set her purse down on her bed. Disgruntled, she fished out her notebook and took pictures of her last few pages from the day before. Silently, she replayed Ethan’s voice. 

“A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream is Shakespeare’s benchmark play about order and disorder: where a father’s will is supposed to be the decider of order in a family but is classically disrupted when his daughter refuses his choice for her marriage and runs away with her lover and their friends--completely disregarding society’s rules.”

Felicity didn’t wait for Jasmine to send her a thank you text before leaving her apartment and bustling down the stairs. 

The maintance hallway that housed Ethan’s office always seemed spookier when she was walking through it alone. She could barely budge the metal access door open to smell the assault of mold on her nostrils. His office door was closed, which made her worry about whether or not he came to campus on Wednesdays. Suddenly, everything she had planned in her head starting falling apart. 

She knocked on the door, timidly and stood back, fiddling with her fingers and looked around to see if anyone was watching her. 

Ethan’s voice was muddled through his office door, “Come in.” 

She took a deep breath and blew it out in a stream before opening his door and walking in. 

He looked up, his eye brows raised in surprise when he noticed her, “I thought we didn’t have class on Wednesday?” He went to check his phone, scared of making a mistake with his schedule. 

“We don’t,” Felicity tried to keep her tone light as she turned around and closed his office door, making a point to turn the deadbolt. 

“Oh,” Ethan put down his phone and looked up at her and she paced from the door to the side of his desk, “What’s up?” 

Felicity bit her lip and took in a breath, which triggered a small amount of anxiety in Ethan. She looked around the room, trying to commit every detail to memory. Ethan had covered the cinderblock walls with framed pictures and memorabilia. He had even bought a small, fuzzy rug to go under his desk to mask the rotting floorboards in the room without windows. As dingy as it was, this was his first office: something he had been dreaming out for as long as he could remember. 

Felicity stopped and looked at one of his pictures. It was a blurry shot, taken on a manual camera of a young Ethan posing with a football helmet. She smiled and made a note to ask him about that later when they had a chance to chat. 

Ethan was still looking at her expectantly when she gathered up the courage to look him in the eye and say, “You have a condom?”

[msawesomeworld]

Royalty not loyalty Chapter 14

Read the previous chapters here.

“These violent delights, have violent ends.” - William Shakespear

Stella’s P.O.V.

I was dreading going into this meeting. I kind of liked these people and I had let myself be vulnerable to one of them. By accident but it was still not good. I was supposed to be calm cool and collected. Not this mess of feelings and sh*t. 

No matter how much I disliked my mother I did find myself asking, what would she do in a situation like this. 

Actually asking her about it would be suicide. But getting into her mindset would probably fix some of my problems. After all if someone was good at lie and deceit it would be my dear mother.

I would just have to talk to him tell him the e-mail was a joke. Then again if he had not read it, then bringing it up would make things worse.

Asking Victoria to hack him and delete it was out of the question, that would mean confining in her. And that could be useless if he had seen it.

First I should play it cool and see how he reacts, then plan my next move after that. I was only a little annoyed seeing as he was pretty hard to read. Always looked a little smug and arrogant, which would be the look on his face if he had indeed seen that e-mail. Oh god what if he had shown it to the others. I would be dethroned and kicked out. Then out of the family of course. I was fucked. 

I was panicking a little on the inside but kept my demeanour cool. Rian did not notice anything. God I wish I could be as calm as he was.

We pulled up to the house and I put on my small smile. I got out of the car and let the maid take my bag. Skylar ran up to me and hugged me. I actually smiled a little genuine, I was looking forward to seeing her.

“God I had no idea two weeks could go by so fast! I have missed you.” She practically yelled at me and I shook my head.

“Why do you sound so shocked. Of course you missed me.” I said and she laughed.

“Seriously though, I had no idea when I signed up for this, that this would be so much fun. Everyone back home either hate me or wanna be me. They are SO boring now.” She said Victoria walked over from their car and I gave her a small hug.

She told me a little about how she was doing and I smiled. At least it seemed like they had not seen that god awful e-mail of mine. 

I hugged Rob and talked to Vic while Skylar practically jumped Rian. I chuckled seeing her like that.

They walked away and Louis came up to me. I looked at him he did smirk a little making me roll my eyes. God of course he looked like that, having so much dirt on me, my mother would never let me hear the end of it if it ever got out. I would have to hear it every time I talked to her, how she had to clean up another one of my messes. God I hated his smug face and myself.

“Hey Princess, did you miss me?” He said sounding genuine but looking smug. God I hated him. I rolled my eyes and walked past him.

“You wish.” I said walking away from him into the house. I had hoped he would not follow me. That would give me to after the meeting to think about an excuse. Maybe I could just tell him that I had one of my minions write the e-mail, and had confused it with the one she had written to her boyfriend. That could happen right.

“Really? Because I got this very interesting e-mail the other day princess.” He said behind me and I groaned.

I walked up the stairs but annoyingly he caught up with me. I went to open the door, but he closed it blocking my way.

“What do you want me to say Louis?” I said annoyed and a little.

Well I did not know where to place that feeling. I was not anger or frustration or hurt something in-between I guess.

His expression had changed a little he now looked a little smug, but also something I could not place happy? Or loving I guess I would call it. But then again not a lot of people actually loved me, so how would I be familiar with what that looked like?

“Why did you send me that e-mail? I try to be nice to you and you completely reject me. Then you send me that, and now you’re acting like a bitch again.” He said sounding angry and hurt. I was a little sad, I had never meant to hurt his feelings. But he was also never supposed to read that. Or even gotten that close to me in the first place.

“Forget whatever that e-mail said. It was a stupid joke okay? I do want to apologise, because I need to be friends with you because of all of this. I should have sent another more formal apology for that. But this is business that is it. Okay Louis?” I said looking him in the eyes, hoping and praying my acting was working. I knew I needed to push him away, he was too good at getting close to me. And I could not have someone like that, I could never let him see any more weakness. I had decided then and there, that I would no longer be vulnerable in front of him. 

I saw his expression drop, but he nodded and he moved aside letting me walk inside. 

This was for the best, he could never know me or anything like that. It was better that I let him down now. While I still had the strength to. I knew myself well enough to realise that he was someone I could really like. It was better to get it over with now, than make it hurt more later.

He would get over it and move on to the next girl. This was all just a silly game anyway, he would come back and be just fine. Just give up on this silly little game and then we would be friends. No big deal, no way he had any actual emotions in this. If he did then he would be naive. 

Besides only fools fall for people like me.

I walked in and talked a little to the others. He stayed a little silent during the meeting, but still performed his duties and voted when he should.

I was happy that mostly everyone loved my ideas. I was glad that Vic had made that draft for the budget we had talked about. Rob had looked at moving some finances around as well, this was all really good. I knew then and there, that these people were good enough. They would help me reach my goal of being great. 

We discussed a lot during the meeting until they all decided to take it up tomorrow, as Skylar put it:

“I can’t handle any more information today or my head will explode.” 

We hung around watching a movie. This was fun, they threw popcorn at me when I brought up something business related. What can I say? I am boring I do my business well. Louis sat furthest away from me, and smiled but was not really as lively as he normally was.

It was actually a good weekend. We hung around got the business done and sent it down to the book keepers so they could change what we had agreed on, and publish it for the other members so they knew. 

We sat around on sunday I was sitting with Skylar.

“God I don’t want to go back to school tomorrow. You have to call me more often missy, all those normal people are so boring!” She said and I chuckled shaking my head at her, but playing along.

“Yes dear, I promise. But please do not be concerned with the opinions of those mere mortals. You have us.” I said and she chuckled.

I was time to go and I hugged her goodbye, promising to call, Vic told me we should make it group calls so I would not have to deal with her drama alone. I chuckled and hugged her goodbye. I loved Skylar for her antics, but god I think I might just love Vic more just because she understands me. Well she understands burdens and having to deal with not being like Skylar. Victoria was like the perfect mix between me and Skylar, had high expectations and wanted to be perfect, but also knew how to feel and let loose. I wished knowing I could never be as carefree as Skylar that I would at least be a little more like Victoria. 

Then again I do not like emotions. They cloud your judgement.

Clouded judgement was bad for everyone. My fun, carefree and spontaneous self had died with Chris.

I had told Louis he had died of a brain disease. Which was partially true. The truth was that he only got that after he went into his coma. 

I loved him, he helped me have fun, be carefree. I was so happy he did not get affected by my mothers antics. She resented him for being his own person. She even kicked him out when he turned 17. She hated me because I loved him. He would say fuck it to anything. Nothing really mattered to him, he was free and happy. 

That night, I had another fight with my mother. I was 16, I went to parties with Chris, last time the paparazzi had seen us, and she was furious. Having to “clean up” after us as she put it. She had actually hurt my feelings this time. I was vulnerable back then. As I always did, I ran off to Chris. 

He comforted me, but I felt like getting back at mom, so we went for a joyride. He got out of the car on this empty road to take a call. It was mom calling to see if I was okay. He told her everything was fine, and then he got hit by a bus. He got into the coma all because of my stupidity. He died not long after, seeing as they had found a tumor in his brain, that ended up killing him. Now we never talked about him. I would smoke a spliff whenever I thought about him. 

He would be disappointed if he could see me now. After his death I fell prey to mom, knowing it was my fault he was killed, I cleaned up my act and followed her rules. As she put it, she would not let me cause another mess like this. She blamed me and she had the right to. Had I not been so stupid and acted out of line he would still be here today.

Still I cannot help but think he would be disappointed in me for never sticking up for myself. He would not have been happy seeing me like this. Seeing me lose myself in her perfect image of me. I did not like to think of what he would say to me now. 

He would want me to be happy. That was one thing I lost when he died. He gave me hope of a life outside of this stupid world. The second he died I was the heir. Meaning mom got harder on me, much much harder. 

The second he died I lost everything. My brother, my dream to get out of this and my chance to be happy.

From there the only thing there was left was: cold, manipulating, miserable and perfect. 

I shook myself out of my thoughts I was the only one here, I had probably left Rian waiting in the car. I wiped the small tear that escaped from me off my face and walked out the door.

I would not do anything spontaneous ever again. I would never be so stupid or naive. It would get the people I cared about hurt.

And no matter how much I tried to be emotionless, I would get me hurt.

No one would hurt me ever again.

I picked up my bag from the floor and sighed as I left the house and walked to the car. That would take me and Rian to the airport and home. 

I had probably kept him waiting there, but I turned to take one last look at that beautiful house. 

I turned to the car and opened the door expecting to see Rian but my jaw dropped.

“What are you doing in Rian and mines car Louis?” I asked obviously confused.

“Get in. I want to show you something.” He said smirking that annoyingly arrogant yet attractive smirk of his.

“That is not happening Louis. You can’t just drag me off somewhere, you could just drive me into the woods and murder me.” I said angry. 

I did not want to go with him. I mean deep down I really wanted to, but I suppressed that emotion, because that is not who I am. I am not spontaneous, and I do not follow people into cars.

“I am not gonna murder you you weirdo. Just get in the damn car. Live a little.” He said words rolling off his tongue sounding oh so inviting and charmning. But I did not want to give in. He was tempting me like a demon in disguise. 

“I can’t just live a little as you put it. I have school tomorrow, and so do you. I can not just leave everything in my life because you want to show me something.” I said sternly.

“I already talked to Katelynn and took care of everything. You are free. Now live a little? With me?” He said. 

I bit my lip looking at him. He smiled warmly at me, still had that little bit wounded look on his face. But he had gained his confidence back. I was a all out of excuses now, and I actually wanted to go. A little voice in the back of my head, which I knew was Chris speaking to me from beyond the grave pushed me to put in my bag and get in that stupid car. He smiled widely and hit for the driver to go.

“Had not thought you would go that easily princess.” He said kindly not in a mocking way like he usually did.

“Well something just told me you weren't giving up anytime soon.” I said smirking confidently.

That was not the truth, the voice did not say that. It said two word that pushed me to go out of my comfort zone:

Fuck it.

A/N: hi if you like reading this and want more fics from me you can find those here. Also if you have any suggestions or just want to tell me how you like this story dont be afraid to send a message my way! 

[barddom]

The Two Gentlemen of Verona

I had never read Two Guys, A Girl, And Pizza Place – I mean, The Two Gentlemen of Verona (hereafter referred to as Gentlemen or Two Gents) before now. This is probably because it’s not one of the big, hyped Shakespeare plays (see: Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear), but upon reflection it could stand to be performed more often? Small cast, simple plot, neat – if completely ridiculous – resolution. 

 Anyway, I hadn’t read it, but I guessed, based on the title, that it was about two dudes from Verona. And I was right. That’s pretty much it. 

 Without even realising it, I’ve leapt straight from “Shakespeare’s Last Play” (Tempest) to this, which some people believe was “Shakespeare’s First Play”. It was definitely an early play, and an early comedy, written probably somewhere between the late 1580s and early 1590s. While I’m not usually someone who’s like, “Oh, it’s an early play, which is why it sucks!” it… might have something to do with why it’s not great. 

Don’t get me wrong. Gentlemen has friendship, passion, conflict, drama, loyalty, and cross-dressing! (And really, what else is there?) But after stepping off the ship from Prospero’s cell and landing in Milan, finding this scene on shore is a little underwhelming. Where are the harpy spirits and chess motifs? Why is nobody half naked and swearing at the sky? Also, Gentlemen is #problematic. But we’ll get to that. 

So many, so so many of Shakespeare’s plays are about, or involve intimate male friendships. This is because intimate male friendships were a Big Deal, at the time, and not just in a gay way, but in a totally heterosexual, platonic way. (But sometimes also in a gay way.) 

The difference between Shakespeare and other writers who lauded male friendships is that Shakespeare is… suspicious of them, or suspicious of the idealized versions of them. In all his plays about male friendship, these friendships aren’t perfect. I will talk more about this at length during my summary, I guess, but also when we read Hamlet later. (I feel a great many things about Horatio.) 

The first imperfect friendship we’re going to meet is these guys, Valentine and Proteus of Verona. (A part of me wants to already press pause and say, seriously? Valentine and Proteus? What kinda on-the-nose names are these? But then I remember that, as far as I know, while Chaucer had already somewhat popularised Valentine as a saint of love, I actually have no clue how widely that kind of language was used. And also “Proteus” doesn’t just mean “First” (first lover, first character, first play?) but is also, like, a god of the sea? So really I need to calm down about my etymological leaps.) 

Act One 

Here’s the deal. Valentine is about to leave Verona to go explore the world (see: Milan), but he doesn’t want to leave without Proteus. Normally, these two guys are inseparable! Amigos! Compadres! Guys being dudes, dudes being guys! But alas, Proteus can’t leave Milan. Why? Because he’s in looooove. He’s so gone for this chick Julia that he turns down an all-expenses paid gap year with his bff. In the next scene, we find Julia chatting with her friend Lucetta, and the conversation is basically this-- 

Lucetta: That Proteus guy totally has a thing for you. Julia: Oh my god, really? Lucetta: Uh, yeah! It’s sooooo obvious. Julia: I guess he’s… cute.  Lucetta: Julie… babes… you literally wrote I Heart Proteus in your notebook eight times since I walked into this room. Julia, looking down at her notebook: Oh shit, you’re right. I mean. What? 

Julia is so determined to deny that she likes Proteus that when Lucetta says she has a letter from him Julia literally rips it up! And then tries to piece it back together and kisses it? Like Helga Pataki or something. It’s the weirdest. (1.2.99-123) 

Meanwhile, Proteus’ dad doesn’t understand why his son would want to waste his time at home when he could go have bro-tastic adventures in Milan. (Also, I just checked: Milan and Verona are… very nearby each other. You could walk there in just a few days.) 

Proteus has received a letter from Julia saying she loves him back! They’ve traded vows! He gave her a ring! But he doesn’t tell his dad about that, because he is worried his father won’t approve. So Antonio – that’s dad – forces Proteus to go to Milan and have some fun, damnit. 

Act Two 

In Milan, we meet Silvia, the object of Valentine’s affections. He’s all over her like a rash, but he seems incapable of understanding how she flirts. Ironically, Speed – Valentine’s servant from Act 1 who is supposed to be dim as a rock – seems to be the only smart, funny character who Gets Stuff. (Unless I’m reading him as being too sarcastic where he is supposed to be sincere.) 

For example: Valentine writes a love letter to Silvia, and she tells him to keep it. He says, “Wait, no, it’s for you?” and she says, “Yeah, I asked you to write it. But it’s for you.” 

 “I’ll write you another one, then.” 

 “Then after you write that, read it, and if you like it, good. If you don’t like it, then think of ways to make it better.” 

 “And what if I like it?” 

 “Then keep it for yourself.” (2.1.109-123) 

Exit. 

Valentine is (I guess understandably) frustrated, but Speed, speaking in rhyme/verse (where he normally speaks in prose), makes fun of the situation, like, “Hahaha, you essentially wrote yourself a love letter, lmao.” Speed explains that Silvia is flirting by having Valentine write love letters and giving them back to him. She is giving him love letters: “Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.” (2.1.156)

I have a soft spot for the fools, especially the fools that make fun of love and romance. Maybe I’m giving Speed too much credit, and he’s not actually smart/witty, just mean and a foil for the lovestruck protagonists. Fools are pretty much always a case of the wisest words coming from the foulest mouths. ANYWAY.

Silvia’s dad wants her to marry this guy Thurio, who she’s not keen on at all. And when Proteus turns up, he immediately forgets all about Julia and decides that he also wants to marry Silvia. Men are so predictable. 

 See, Valentine’s busy ribbing Proteus about Julia, and while Proteus is like, “Julia’s not a goddess. I just like her, mortal flaws and all,” Valentine is busy espousing the holy divinity of Silvia. Something in Proteus’ brain flips. He must have that goddess. 

Back in Verona, Julia is coming up with a Flawless Plan to go see Proteus in Milan. She needs to see him again or she’ll die. (2.7.15)

But she can’t travel as a woman, alone, without a male escort! So, she does what any rational woman would do, and decides to disguise herself as a boy. (Worth reminding you again: Milan and Verona are about 93 miles apart. That’s about a 3 day journey on foot.) 

 As this is the first time we, on this blog, are witnessing crossdressing in Shakespeare, it is worth reminding you that women did not act on the Elizabethan/Jacobean stage. All female characters are played by boys in drag, essentially. So when crossdressing happens – and it almost always happens with a girl pretending to be a boy – what is actually happening on stage is that a boy is pretending to be a woman pretending to be a boy. Layers!  

Act Three 

Proteus is plotting against Valentine, because nothing comes between two best dude friends better than a sexy lady. He tells Thurio – the other suitor – that Valentine has been sneaking up to see Silvia at night and that they’re planning on running away to elope. 

Thurio is like, “wtf?” and dobs this in to Silvia’s dad. The Duke is like, “Yeah….. I know….. it’s an issue.” Doubly an issue because Valentine has been tryna play the Duke like a harp. The Duke is too quick for this and tricks Valentine into revealing all his wooing techniques, and through some sort of weird trick involving a ladder (the logic of this train of thought remains unclear?) finds Valentine’s love letter to Silvia and is like “AHA!!!! YOU FIEND!!!” 

Valentine is told to leave Milan and never return. Boom. (3.1.120) 

The Duke is all, “Gee, I’m so glad my new friend Proteus tipped me off to all this. He’s such a stand up guy.” 

 Silvia, who was really into Valentine, is super pissed at her dad, and also wants nothing to do with Proteus since he’s the one who screwed everything up for her. Meanwhile, Proteus is trying to play Valentine’s old game, and pretends to be in favour of Thurio marrying Silvia. (Hint: this won’t work out well.) 

Act Four 

 On “the frontiers of Mantua”, Valentine and Speed get attacked by outlaws. If Mantua sounds familiar, it’s also where Romeo get’s banished to in Romeo and Juliet, so it’s clearly where all the rejects from the Italian justice system get sent.

Valentine lies to the outlaws and says he was banished by the Duke for killing a man. And they’re like, “Oh shit! This guy is legit! Let’s make him our leader!”

 And that’s how Valentine becomes the leader of a pack of outlaws. 

 Meanwhile, Thurio is futzing up his wooing of Silvia, because Proteus is giving him really bad advice, like singing bad songs and generally being annoying.

 There’s also a bit here where Proteus says, “… Yet, spanial-like, the more she spurns my love / The more it grows and fawneth on her still.” (4.2.14-5). This is almost the exact same line that Helena says in Midsummer re: Demetrius. Just worth mentioning. 

 This is when Julia enters, in boy’s clothes. (So, I guess it’s been three days.) She hears this song about Silvia and is like, “Woooooow. Ok. So… this sucks.”

 Even worse, she overhears a conversation between Silvia and Proteus, where he says, “Look, I was in love once, but that chick is dead, so… I’m wide open.” And Silvia responds, “That’s sad and all, but you also stabbed your best buddy in the back like a total tool. So I can never trust you, let alone love you.” 

 Silvia plans to escape Thurio, Proteus, and her father, and head to Mantua where she and Valentine can be together. Also, she gets rid of the little dog that Proteus gave her. Because who needs that shit around. 

 When Proteus sees that his dog has been returned to him, he’s like, “Fine! I can up my game!” He turns to Julia, who for some reason he doesn’t recognise, a la Lois Lane not recognising Superman when he has his hair done a little different, and says, “Take this ring and give it to Silvia.” 

It’s Julia’s ring! She is… crushed. 

 When Julia goes to give the ring to Silvia, like a lamb, she basically bursts into tears and says, “I knew Julia. And this belonged to her. And he wants to give it to you. But if she knew… she would… probably die forever and ever.” 

 Silvia – who, in my opinion, realises that this boy is actually Julia – says, “Take the ring, and this purse of money. Look, I’m crying too. Wow. Ok, bye.” 

Act Five (i.e. when things deteriorate quickly). 

Silvia wants to get the hell out of Milan, and she and Sir Elgamour talk about their plans outside Friar Patrick’s cell. They’re gonna run away! That always works well.

 (A lot of conspiring happens in, or by, a friar’s cell – see: Romeo and Juliet.)

 Meanwhile, Proteus being grilled by Thurio about Silvia. Does she like me? Does she hate me? What is going on! What Proteus really wants to know is what Silvia said to Julia aka Sebastian. 

 But before we can get any answer – the Duke bursts in and announces that Silvia has disappeared! Dun dun dun. 

“She’s fled unto that peasant Valentine.” Clever dad. 

 In the next scene, we find Silvia in the forest, alright, but Sir Elgamour is nowhere to be found! In fact: Silvia is being held captive by outlaws. I’m sure you, who is not an idiot, can see where this is going. 

 In the next scene, Valentine gives a speech about how lonely being the inexplicable leader of a band of outlaws can be, and how all he really wants is Silvia. Who cares about unchecked power and the loyalty of violent criminals when the love of your life has been taken away from you? Sigh. 

 But then, there’s a suspicious noise – and lo and behold, enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia! 

Valentine steps aside into the shadows to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

Apparently Proteus (and Julia) helped rescue Silvia from the outlaws before she could successfully be taken to Valentine. 

 “What do you mean you still don’t want to fuck me!” Proteus complains. “After me and my servant rescued you and everything!” 

 “Dude,” Silvia replies, “I would literally rather be eaten by a lion than have you rescue me from anything.” (5.4.33-34) 

 “It’s a damn shame when a woman can’t love when she’s loved,” says Proteus.  

“It’s a damn shame when Proteus can’t love when he is loved by Julia who, yeah, I know is still alive, you steaming pile of human garbage. Also, I love Valentine, who was supposed to be your best friend,” Silvia replies – though I may be paraphrasing a little. 

 This is when Proteus, and I shit you not, “seizes her” and says, “I’ll woo you like a soldier, at arms’ end / And love you ‘gainst the nature of love – force you.” (5.4.59-60) 

That’s right. Proteus fully intends to rape Silvia then and there. 

 Valentine leaps out of the shadows and goes to rescue Silvia from Proteus, rightfully calling him all sorts of despicable names that I’m sure would have been very insulting to someone four hundred years ago. 

Naturally, Proteus drops everything (‘everything’ being Silvia) and apologises profusely. 

 “Okay, cool,” Valentine says. 

 Wait, what? OKAY COOL? “Then I am paid, / And once again I do receive thee honest”? How? 

 Similarly shocked by all these developments is Julia, who swoons. 

When everyone rushes to her side, she says, “Oh, I forgot to give Silvia this ring…” 

“But… this isn’t the ring I gave you to give Silvia. This is the ring I gave Julia!” Proteus says, like a genius. 

“Oh, right. I meant this ring,” Julia corrects herself, taking out the ring that she had given Proteus that he had then given Silvia. (Lots of rings.) 

“But wait, how did you get this ring?” Proteus asks, still not getting it. 

This is when Julia gives up and has mercy on everyone, and reveals herself to not be a little boy named Sebastian but a grown woman! And a very specific grown woman! 

After a bit of blushing about being seen in such immodest attire, Julia and Proteus kiss and make up. So now instead of a very messy love triangle/square/octagon, we just have two happy couples! Yay, heteronormativity restored!

Thurio, the Duke, and the band of outlaws all then rock up, presumably for the closing song. Are there going to be any consequences for anyone’s actions? No? Does Thurio hold this against Valentine? Absolutely not! What about the Duke? Any issues with his daughter ending up with the leader of a band of murderers? 

 “Sir Valentine, / Thou are a gentleman, and well derived; / Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her.” (5.4.158-59) 

Nope, and nope. 

Closing remarks? 

I think we can see why Two Gents isn’t considered a piece of High Art in the way a lot of other Shakespeare plays are. It’s essentially the Shakespearean equivalent of a sitcom, or a formulaic romantic comedy. When trying to look Deep into Two Gents, most people point to the gender relations and the complications that arise with crossdressing on stage. There are also grounds to investigate the role of forests in Shakespeare’s plays – if it happens in the woods it’s bound to be interesting. Then of course there are the all-encompassing questions about love, and the truth of love, and the relativity of that truth. Proteus was so in love with Julia that he almost couldn’t bear to leave Verona, and yet as soon as he saw Silvia, any love he felt for Julia went flying out the window. Shakespeare once said that love looks not with the eye, but with the mind. I would say that Two Gents preaches exactly the opposite. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder; it just sets it loose on the nearest soft object. 

Things to accompany The Two Gentlemen of Verona 

Two Guys, A Girl, and a Pizza Place (1998- 2001) starring Ryan Reynolds. 

The Road to El Dorado 

“Same Girl” by R. Kelly and Usher 

I dunno, every sitcom ever.

[cto10121]

The Riddle of Man

Fandom: Harry Potter Genre: Poetry Sites: ao3, ff.net Ships: Tom/OC, Tom/Bellatrix, Harry/Ginny Summary: An orphaned boy rises to become the most powerful and feared wizard of his age. But when he hears a prophecy about a boy destined to defeat him, his own deadly action spells his undoing. Or should we say, his inaction? The true story of the man who became Lord Voldemort. AU. OOC for good reason. 

A/N: This is the impostume of reading too much Shakespeare, which outward breaks and knows not why potential readership dies. But for those who don’t mind this weird marriage of poetry and fanfic, here it is. For anyone unused to verse, try reading aloud, softly, to yourself. It will make better sense that way.

The Riddle of Man

Though oft the sweet-sung tale of late renown Among our common laud, a troubled mind Did lead me once to quiet witness sound, Whose tale obscure too late did wisdom find, Ere he was laid on fruitless ground to rest: So this, in’s memory, I’ll tell to test. 

There lived a boy of raven hue, whose eyes All eyes did draw to praise, like midnight sheer On iv’ry marble smooth, that, realized, Did show to all his beauty’s moonlight clear. And groped to him describe in just compare, As dark Adonis of renownèd fair.   

His charms did charm, his pleasing wit bewitched, Enchanting craft which swiftly won the grace Of wondered wizard and of swooning witch, Which easy skill had shown the telling trace Of ancient Slytherin, his mother’s line, That all gave due to noble blood’s divine. 

His talent known, at school he rose to fame, For in all of curse and jinx and hex excelled, And there grew known his stranger’s Muggle name, Though in his vein coursed blood of Peverell. And soon him followed in a loving throng A motley court that sued for favor longed. 

A love had he, one Coralina Smith, Niece to old Hepzibah, Hufflepuff’s heir. Though Slytherin-sorted, of cunning pith, Her heart was golden gentleness’ fair. Her grace he wooed, courted, and present won, And with her went after schooling done. 

But lo, it cannot be that matchless form Can spotless match within; for violent birth Of need-imbibed desire, like the worm, Does seethe and chafe to prove its scanted worth In ancient world of magic’s right and might, Where strong seize all, and weakling fall from sight. 

So young Tom Riddle (hight) like fury strove At Borgin’s worked till morning’s shadow eye, His lover like a wife, balm to his behove, His confidante in every act and lie. This love like coin resembled, on each side, Where mirror twins of blackest fair resides.

“Master Burke for your advancement speaks,” Said she in whispered confidence of bed, “A vacancy, which falls on thee to seek! Lest some popinjay take it in thy stead; For even lowly Ministry hire May rise to fill his dark desire.” 

So up, our Tom preferred, like blooming rose, Or special magnet which success draws near, Or moon the ocean’s tide attracts it close, Did climb to ranks of rank ambition’s dear, Which seeks the earthly fruit of polis crown That grants immortal heights from humble ground. 

A politic career had made him well, And soon a loyal twelve, who called him lord, Of talent profit and in leisure dwell, With selfsame hungry want for power’s hoard. And in this pledge did swear to serve ‘a true At his command by wand of phoenix yew. 

What then, in spring success, could augur bring? His lover now his wife, his lordship’s queen; The Phoenix order fled on frighted wing, The Ministry at heel, his power seen; Why, then, this leaden flash, this dew of cold, That harrows up the bone to press him old? 

“A prophecy, my lord.” Thus plague begun. His man Severus, bone-white, spoke in few: “Your death’s proclaimed by newborn summer son, Whom you must end, or risk your state undo. This Sibyl Trelawney with rasping speech Spoke fearful fortune; hear it, I beseech. 

“The sons of these two enemies, both alike In dignity and danger they present: Fair Longbottom, and Potter in his spite, Which your success they bitter most resent: As families of ancient line and clout, Your hard-won right they scorn, your blood they doubt. 

“O, good my lord, do not this augur heed, The vague pronouncement of uncertain word, To mark each penny-filching doctor’s greed And loose your judgment to reason most absurd. For augurs are like rakehell oaths, all bawds, And this Trelawney shy of certain fraud. 

“O, yet while you’ve your strength, take care defend The triumph of your state through power’s just! For sudden acts precipitate their end, Like lover’s frenzy dead in passion’s dust. What need, therefore, to spur from glory’s sun, And plan a fell attack on Lily’s son? 

“Darling Lily’s son, and Longbottom’s too, Are nothing to your lordship’s grace compared; Say they’ll grow to do you wrong, say that’s true: ‘Tis common known that common ends by rare. Your patience stay; but if you needs must act, On Longbottom fall your preventive tact. 

“Your mercy, lord, commends your mercy’s grace, In granting me your humble servant’s plea, To spare that love that love itself did lace With beauty’s rose and fortune’s starry lea. Then in your wisest censure judge Whether greater lord would lesser plea begrudge.” 

“I do conceive,” (this in reply), “thy plight, Severus; so I here confess me free From fond gain-giving or too-credent fright In piercing shallow mists of prophecy. For when I give consent to fear invest Pronounce me bankrupt in both wit and rest.” 

And yet it’s often seen that jealousy, When faced with Fortune’s accidents, Runs sweaty mind with sharp conspiracy, And nurtures compost seeds of false intent. So ‘twas the seeress proved her risky lie, When both that month his motion’s plans defied. 

To Dumbledore the fam’lies swore an oath, And joined his Phoenix order to prevent The fearful promise of his office troth: By courting the pureblood constituent, Prestige and power gain, in nation rule, And nevermore play fortune’s motley fool. 

But dark and queer, the dreams that haunt the life, Like swinging pendulum of nightmare trance! So deep his brood it did alarm his wife, Who stayed the loose-held reigns of augured chance To tell him this: “This seeress is but light; Stay, therefore, do not order judgment’s flight. 

“’Tis always been the truc of prophecy, Itself to realize its self’s belief With vague announcement garbed as certainty, Of which, for proof, their own self proof is chief. Thus builds a hollow case in iron proof, Like lawyer’s edifice’s absent roof. 

“To do this deed, your credit would undo, Which yet some eye of public favor holds, For trophies, trinkets, offices that honor you Their luster lost, their waste is present sold. Advancement by this act so would fly Your fortune forfeit, that hour’s honor dies. 

“I say this not to stay, oh, understand, Thy mounting name; but thou must yet fear With too-small pause to dye thy spotless hand, And easy fall in murder’s blackened smear. Oh, do not thee so: For all greatness must The jealous mass attract like scented lust. 

“This Sibyl is a punk, a drab, a pass, Who never spoke in life a word of truth: Cassandra’s blood, though not her See she has, And so she’s worked as pandlar-bawd since youth. To credit her a minute past her rate, Would soon reduce ye to a beggar’s state.”

“This advice of caution’s well” (so spoke he) “And therefore caution will I best employ: To crush the bud before it flowers me With pestilence, else spell my end in joy. For sickness left untendered deathly rage To leave one simple mark upon a page.” 

“Wilt thou aid me, Cora? Dost thou approve?” They clinging fast, a little world in room, And, silent, understood the force which moves The trembling thread through steady weaving loom, And weave the silky purse with icy will Which glory’s expectation helps keep still.

II.

The night of Hallows’ Eve drew velvet black. The moon, forewarned, had cloaked herself from see; In laden streets a masquerade was wracked Like glimm’ring jewels in solemn ebony.   But lo, how starless was this hallowed night, As if these loyal guards had quit in fright! 

And if some common portents there were seen, As owl’s daylight pass or talking horse; The dire thunderclap, the lone wolf’s keen, A ghost relating horror in blank verse, None bore the fruit of witness or of deed; But horror more than these did proceed. 

And, ghosting, cloaked through village festive’s streets, The riddle walked with slow, ungainly tread. A flask through gripless fingers, flavored sweet, Empty rang the streets as slipping courage fled. Each step proclaimed: Let fall life, usher death, For only fools dare barter precious breath. 

A child, no more, a life to say but one, Untested thought that grows in’s promise doubt. Then kind enough t’eclipse this flaming son, Lest fiery growth in danger scorch him out. What lacks he, then, but strength of chosen will, To banish evil life with goodly kill? 

Fair or dark, dark and fair, or darkly fair, To ravel future fall from stars divine; Which peril’s boy discern, which wizard’s heir Would one day claim, “This life were mine”? And then unbidden came the knowing spark – Fair and dark had fought; so won the dark. 

The hallowed Hollow in evening’s Hallow, Rose rosy vision of a mountain mist. Whiskey quickened blood and breathing shallow, The web of fogging doubt that must desist. Till in his memory’s abstract lived this creed: To never stay till ending of this deed. 

So banish doubt, sink feeling to the bone; And flaming mind abate with cooling patience. Make lily-livered heart to practice stone, Leave mother mercy off with temperance. And should in this endeavor triumph can, You’d prove yourself a more than mortal man. 

Within was dark without a sound. A chance Of pause him stayed: Was this a trap, a trick? Had the Potters warning of his advance? A furious stream of light replied, a lick Of smarting curse – the jealous father stood, Armed and ready to defend his brood. 

No discourse, all instinct, marked the first exchange, And silent house her secret soon disclosed. They fought as teething beasts, deranged, Where one opponent fell, the other rose. Till both in struggle had about the neck; A moment’s beat before the fatal wreck. 

The flash of jade this shattered mirror caught, The slash that chasm tore the living place – What eye would horror glimpse, received unsought, The cleanly break’s irrevocable case? The body fell, and so fell too marred youth, That bit of soul that so betrayed its truth. 

In silence rang, though never heard, the moan Whose mournful treble for her husband’s death Would have stole the general ear and sown In ev’ry sleeping conscience anguished breadth, And make the stones themselves on murder cry Which joined his racing blood where conscience lies. 

The lick of flame that vanished on the stair At his trespass and sequent wizard’s duel Now flashed in desp’rate quickness ‘round the fair It gilded, like porcelain of queenly rule, Now fleshly pale at horror’s hasty side Her tender hidden from the wicked hide. 

“Desist, depart,” she cried. “No more, I pray – Take me instead; I do throw my life of care, And your hand upon my head fear not stay. But not my boy, no, not my son, him spare, And I will do you any service, now, So changing mercy with a servant’s vow.” 

“I have no quarrel nor no use for thee,” Quoth he. “Stand aside. Mercy will I give If thou my business let unhindered free, ‘Less like thy husband thou wilt scorn to live. So quit thy begging – no, I cannot hear – Leave hanging from my sleeve, come not so near.” 

“Kind master, good lord,” she sobbed. “Don’t refuse; You cannot be so kindless, no, you must, Nor can you my frankness so abuse And kill for naught the simplest sense of just. Have pity, then, upon my state, have soul, Which you know I know you have, that yet is whole. 

“Or better still, take him alive; how great Your triumph then, to turn a dreaded foe To friend, to son, to chief of highest state; How can he turn, raised to love you so? For all the best do know for war to end You must a present foe turn future friend. 

“Oh, raise him, then, be father and mother To him, and use me as pleases your will: As your servant, woman, both, or other, At table, bed, or secretary’s quill, At hand to do whatever needs be done, So long as he may live your honored son.” 

“What mother mothered, what father fathered! When I was this boy’s age, a stranger filled My cup of need along with several others Orphaned by indifferent fortune, whose will Decreed the curse of life of endless want!” This spoke with maddened eye and favor gaunt. 

“Be grateful, then, thy son will never know The orphan plight of raising tear-flesh shame, That must surrender constant proof, or grow In banished self the cancer of his name. Such little lives in fettered darkness lead, That souls that leave are blinkered by their need. 

“Forbear! Thou silly wench, think’st thou me kind? This kindness lost, if ever had, is bar To acts of heightened pitch which will find A greater glory reaching farther star. Then come what fate and sorrow follow: Beyond them lies the hope of better morrow.” 

So shoved she aside, but no sooner done Than she with stinging hex attempted wide, Which, blocked, ended what had scarce begun: Avada Kedavra answered her pride. And struck her to the core of living life The light extinct with cut of fiery knife. 

And this exchange the child witnessed all, Unknowing eyes that nursed the wounded gash And humor mild at his mother’s fall, Consumed by eerie glow of em’rald lash, Which stole his loyal mother from his right Into the plunge of everlasting night.

The murderer, the infant in its crib, For a moment’s beat formed a painted scene, As if the sortilege of fate had dimmed And froze the famous pair in Avada-green. A frescoed Tom and Hal in rival’s sort: The Boy-Who-Lived with so-called Voldemort.

But as we know from ancient faded writ, That time-worn tales do lose their little truth, Traditions turning legend, legend myth, Till age gives faded fancy fancy’s youth, So too this tyrant-beast, so hight, did stay Like statue frozen: Nothing neither way. 

Nothing! Yes, nothing. Wracked in wonder, I Made question, disbelieved this calm report. But him I sounded, with a saddened eye, Knew I knew him true on Voldemort. He stayed his fell, and hidden world did see This Voldemort turn present Voldevie. 

Unseeing stared at the unheeding boy; The moments rolled and lengthened to a crawl. The child, smiling, proffered him his toy,  A furry griffin wrapped in crimson shawl. As if in friendly peace and gesture just, To stranger, if his liking tended thus. 

Decline your wand of yew; it’s over now. Do not with vainest show a falsehood keep. In war a soldier fights to hold his vow, But ever after never finds his sleep. For who would, kindless, innocence slaughter In guise of potential son or daughter? 

He thought on Cora, on himself, his state, The sibyl’s oracle, Snape’s petition. But as he anguished, there heard Apparate The Phoenix, which surrounded the partition. Which forced him to employ his plan’s escape, With friends to hide, join Cora, send for Snape. 

Round, like a circle in a spiraled wheel, The space constricted in an eyelash wink, Through coaxing whirl its spinning thread unreels His liquid essence pooling in a sink, Until the hearth of Riddle House appeared At Cora’s feet, demanding him her fear. 

“I heard rumors from the Hollow,” she said, Pale as ash. “Thou quakest with fear, thy favor’s wild. What happened? Are thou hurt, are they dead? The Phoenix is called; didst thou kill the child?” “No,” he groaned. “No, no. Cora, I am through. I’ve murdered sleep, and sleeping killed I you.” 

“What speech is this? My lord, you shake. Do bend Your discourse into some frame; what occurred? The night’s bleak horrors could no spell forfend; The elves did tremble at each trifle heard. Is the mission undone? Yet tell me so, So flee this place, to further safety go.” 

“Ay, ay, to flee,” he breathed. “We must, ‘tis true. But let us not, sweet wife, ourselves deceive. Forbear all counsel. Here’s my wand of yew: Perform Priori, then break it. Conceive, And let us haste, and there embrace our doom: A burdened life, which must in us assume.” 

Gone was the triumph that had come before, Gone were the fruits of warlike state enjoyed, Gone were safety, peace, the sanctum’s core, The undefiled piece of man and boy. Hope forsaken, vows forsworn, lives undone, They to shadows turned from midnight sun. 

III.

Alone, forsook, in tower languishing, Beneath a sky that held no hint of peace. What little hope that keeps from perishing In’s shrunken breast the fine of shortened lease, Did pace in fev’rish-ill round restless cage, While cold-eyed stars played witness to his rage. 

His orders foiled, his men in blind retreat; His Cora gone, and Severus long since fled; The Hogwarts siege a failure uncomplete, And on each side the living reckoned dead. Now warlike Harry, in his eager pride Flies to Riddle House with heated stride. 

Or so spake rumor; he no longer knew The diff’rence ‘tween a moonlit night and noon, Between autumnal’s chill and springtime dew, Between a loyal man and sycophant’s croon, But dealt each toy with jealous sputt’ring rant, Spurned good and ill alike in scornful cant. 

“What, Yaxley! Malfoy! Rosier! Are all fled? A pox ‘a fops and gulls that cannot stand! Fie, Bella, dost thou hear? Thy husband’s dead, And would his fellows proved so true a man! Go to and hang, ye lily-livered knaves! Is this to pay the graciousness I gave? 

“What, Nott defaulted too? Then traitors, hence! O shamed deceit, these yellow whoreson curs, That feel sans feeling, lose their common sense!” He beat his chest; his lover too did hers, And brought his person level to her eyes, Who comfort gave to ease his great despise.

“Have cheer, my good lord, all is not lost yet; The beasts are fresh, the battle scarce begun; But give me leave to seek out Marsenet – Prithee, lord, give me leave to seek our son, Whom honor pricks in mortal vengeful plan, Seeking young Potter’s death at thy command.” 

“Bella, do not stir from hence! Thee I told A thousand times remain, and so thou wilt; Let Marse his importunity strike bold; Fiori has too much his mother’s milk. For loving Cora’s favor lives in him, And tortures me with madness as its whim.” 

“Proud I am,” said she, fierce, “of Mars’ might, For son so mewed I’d scorn to breathe the name. My honor’s better served to join the fight, And change each Phoenix blow with fatal same. Then let my duty better show in this, Fair warrior die than live in coward’s bliss.” 

“Oh, coward’s bliss,” he sighed. “Would it were mine, And inner calm restore the balm of sleep! Revive the luscious spring of barren time, That left me drowned in crimson ageless deep, Until our self like factious jealous state Undoes itself in chaos rebel’s fate.” 

“Do not so speak,” she hissed. “Oh, fie, oh, fie! Are you a man? Is this proper bearing? Oh, once you could the wrathful gods defy, And now like timid beast thy hairs rise staring! Oh, good my lord, renounce this woman’s chatter; Thy power yet is more than mortal matter.” 

“Leave me, Bel. By Salazar, forbear! Go, then, with Marsenet, take up the cause, And seek Fiori’s stay. Content thee, fair: My years, a tangled scarf of torn-up gauze, Is skinlike stretched to ephemeral taut And seeks a knitted rest from weary lot.” 

But desperate thought, as Bella left, crept in, And colored gaping absence’ memory With too-fine fears that, heartened, slither in, The tempest clouding up his wat’ry see, Till bare and stony tower mirror turned To mock his face, his folly dearly earned. 

For oh, how vile the flesh in loathing steeps, Like poison-vat that thinking gives a cure! Dry lesions in his bony hands, which creeped And tried to tear proud body’s insecure! His beauty’s gone, a shadow coarse’d by years, And manly form weathered by kindly tears. 

Without the distracted lord’s chamber door, In base of winding stair a foot did rest. Gazing up the helix (oh, true Gryffindor!) Was Harry Potter, crown of Hogwarts’ best, Whose Godric’s sword did grip with master right, In churning lust for coming master fight. 

Blood did gild that form unmatched in breadth, That broad poitrine of sleek and wiry strength, Glistening with the salt of valiant breath, That amorous wet each sinew of his length. The dark-fair rose of youth, this golden boy; A wizard prince, Dumbledore’s pride and joy.

“Fiori,” he said, low, “You’re sure he’s there?” “Ay, sweet Harry,” the latter, grim, replied,  “With his own fears made drunk and mad with care, A beast who wallows in the filth he lies; To put him down would be a mercy’s act, And you yourself the sealer of that pact.” 

“Join hands with me, Fiori,” (so said he) “And pardon it, with all thy heart, that fell That ended thy brother’s life. Let, for thee, This cancel crime, foul words between us quell. And let grow fruit of golden amity Thy service honor banished enmity.” 

“Merlin be with thee!” Clasping him, ‘a cried, “Marse’s death fall not on thee. O thou great, O thou most good! An thou wert now to die, What feeling loss would pang the tott’ring state!” “Do not yet speak of death,” said Harry, bleak. “I hate the word, and do defy its weak. 

“Tell Ron of Fenrir, of poor Hagrid’s plight; Break gently news of Fred and George’s fall; Hunt Dolohov, for Remus’ death requite; Send brave Hermione to McGonagall. Bid them join the rest, not to stay for me; Riddle I must face alone, or ne’er be. 

“And one last thing –” He swallowed thickly here. “If by any chance thou see’st Ginny –” But love, which speaks through storm and silenced fear, Through god-ruled fate and mortal tyranny, Did tie his ready tongue with struggling pause: Love too great for words makes speechless cause. 

His friend regardless understood. “Ay, I shall. Never thee fear.” He gazed at him, And laden chest exhumed a pregnant sigh, As if regretting some old childhood whim. And sans another word the two did part, In silent gesture speaking heavy heart. 

The long and slow ascent, the torches’ shade, That led with clammy step to Riddle Tow’r, Took warlike Harry to each passing grade, His noble heart grow fierce with trembling pow’r. For dark his heated purpose, ice his breath, To pay the lord at last his parents’ death. 

He met the door; Alohomora made It yield. The dreaded sight appeared, appalled, The shrunken shadow’s shadow, merest shade. That stood near window with a darkened pall, And did not turn to greet him at the door; So went ignored the noble Gryffindor. 

Neither did silence break with needless speech, Nor flourished wand or blood-caked sword withdrew, Nor cleaved the other’s ear with verbal breach, Or faults with ringing condemnation spewed, Nor even gave with name avenger’s cry, As, “You killed my father. Prepare to die.” 

Instead he turned, and, startled, met his twin, As if in glass or master painter caught, No change without reflecting change within – Tom Riddle had appeared, unwilled, unsought! How could this be? But no, his eye had erred: His mind had hasty jumped to dream preferred. 

No, Harry was himself, his father’s spit, In form and bearing a dark and well-made youth; But in the fire of his almond pit, The emerald Lily lived to blaze her truth: And once again gazed in her killer’s eye, And once again his person she defied. 

“Is’t you at last?” he murmured low. “My foe, Or savior – I’ve long forgot the which. Have you then come to pitch my overthrow, My friends supplant, undo, restrain, bewitch? Or like a sheep in wolfish garb dost come To reckon up my debt to force a sum?” 

“Thy reckoner’s here,” said Harry coldly. “Stand, if you be man, and we our strength shall try. My parents’ loss my glory’s gain shall be, And prove those ancient words which prophesied The fate which knits us in her threaded gyves: ‘Neither can live while the other survives.’” 

“Thou wretched boy!” Rounding in a flashing break. “I’ll see thee ere I go with thy parents sent! Life’s a candle flame that, with slightest quake, The smallest breath may careless usher rent; So stint, thou seed. Take heed to tender light That youthful wick which soon is swallowed night.” 

“Thou thing! Thou paper-king of rags and patch, Thou serpent-prince of foul and ancient rot! The germ of evil and of fell dispatch, That knits disasters in its wedded knot! And now, thou shadow’s shadow, here must end The canker ill of ill’s allowed propend!” 

And not a word thereafter spoken, no, Nor slightest breath of air exchanged; When words do fail, the greater is the show, That follows fast with furious martial range; And so they to’t, wand to wand, man to man, To guard till final breath their person’s stand. 

The grim-eyed chamber lit with charging spell, Some dying splattered on unyielding stone, Exploding firecrackers that did quell On dusty ground extinct by ashy loam. Or else that mortal lash of hex that missed And brushed their robèd arms like streaking kiss. 

Which side more desp’rate and which more maddened, To deal the final blow? Their worth Were equal on both, and Fortune, saddened, Knew well the justice of their troubled birth. And quit her post, leaving weaving wheel, For mortals to decide their own fate’s seal. 

And oh, who did not hear the scream of Bellatrix, But heated blood did freeze in fearful vein? When she her Marse’s death found out the trick That stole his life and she her honor stained, Then sobbing tore through house with vengeful aim; Till stayed by Molly Weasley, grieving same. 

“Thou scorpion, thou scullion poison-well, Thou dram – no, don’t thee dare not walk away! My darling twins thy stainèd hand had felled And now thy debt is mine to make thee pay. Oh, I’ll assure my strike won’t be in vain, For thou wilt harm my children ne’er again.”

“Traitors! Murd’rous knaves and thieves! The fount of foulest, villainous evil! Oh sweet my brave, my darling son!” So grieved, Like tempest gales the heart’s upheaval, It stopped her speech; and blindly struck her wild, In vengeance ‘gainst the world for darling child. 

A clash of opposites, of vicious reach, Twin whirlwind furies of a crimson pitch. Each mother’s grief a circle feeding each, Which called one weasel whore, the other bitch; And fought till Molly caught her on the ground; Her wand like knife to neck did put her down. 

Did he feel, I wonder, his lieutenant,   Before her mortal strings of life were caught? Hope her house had quit, and left as tenant The want that craves its end in naught. And silent begs the mercy-giver act To kill the sullied flesh of shameful fact. 

As Bella went, her lover was disarmed, And slipping, with arm outstretched he fell; Quick Harry poised to execute that harm That soon would send him kicking heel to hell. And this advantage quickly moved to seize: Himself still armed, his rival on his knees. 

But as in life beyond a paper fame, Oft the things we mean to do miscarry Or never realized, or change in aim, Purpose, circumstance, or name. So Harry, Like a painted character dumbly stood And let his doubting “should” o’erwhelm his “would.” 

And in that space where silent counsel streams, Entire worlds of words conveyed through gaze, The time between did pass like sluggish dream   Like years and not some seconds passed in haze.   So youth and age, dark and dark, fame and fame, Like statues stared, dumb in unfinished game.   

The winds without had calmed, as eye of storm, Before a thunderclap the silence rent; The air did lose its biting frost and warmed, Which all of mercy’s hope in second spent. So to it went again the foes; but then Wands met in Priori Incantatem. 

A golden thread the several streams enjoined, The honeyed warmth that, streaming, intercourse; A rushing surge of pow’r in chaffing loins That meet with fervor in deep-throated force. Two wills in one, and one in that one will, In battle fought; but impasse kept them still. 

The spell forced memory; the wands confessed Each wrathful kill, each calculated hurt. Not one did stint in shame, but rather tressed In essence same, though meeting briefly curt. How loath the one to undo its brother! How warm they greeted, like open lover! 

And yet it could not be but their joy was brief: The phoenix of the holly trumped the yew, Though not without the pain of magic’s grief, That made its brother’s spell dissolve like dew. Oh sorrow’s cross, to bear that loving strife, To be the one to end beloved life! 

So Voldemort, then Voldevie, now naught, His riddle solved, but wants its puzzle piece, That in his raging sorrow desperate sought The pardon that would give his trial peace. Now dearly found, and dearer bought by youth, Who now stands heir to all his state and truth. 

The hush that fell, the fury’s storm’s recede, Though not a mite abated, made a pause To give a panting Harry back his need And room to bring the truth of triumphed cause, Before the joyful sight of living friend: The evil scarce begun has present end. 

But oh, what joy, what cheer did start And filled with lusty roar the bleak lacuna: For who did meet him, these loyal hearts, But Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna? His faithful warriors, and more, and more, Did come to throng him at the door. 

Exhausted, weary, words but breath and air, He made no sound except to say his deed, And thought on nothing but his ended care, That sixteen years of strife did lead. And soon looked forward to a life well fed, With fierce-proud Ginny by his side to wed.  

With ringing bell, the Hogwarts flag was hung And draped across old Riddle senior’s hall. Requiems for the lost and hymns were sung To victory dearly won by brother’s fall. And triumph over wicked wizard dead, Now gone to goblin’s hell below sans head. 

For Tom Marvolo Riddle, his body found, Was tossed and thrown in playful wizard’s game, And for a trophy, as from bear or hound, Off went the severed head of wicked fame, To join his fiendish wife and cobra lover As butcher king in markless tomb uncovered. 

His eldest son, Fiori, now his heir, Was guarded for a time without his room, His treason known, that made him present fair By Harry, who made him a courtly groom. Although his tyrant sire’s blood did make Suspicion’s odorless smoke trail his wake. 

Fior did not last, but fared much better Than oily Malfoy, now past all earthly care, Or kindless Crabbe with brutish Trevor, Both fiendish fire’s meat of Ron the Bear. With Dolohov through, cut by Ginny’s curse, The rest were carted off for fate much worse. 

Then wisdom blanched, his trickling tale he stayed. I, in puzzlement, inquired for his health. “Oh, fie,” he moaned. “I was a fool to say What none should dare for all his land and wealth! But enough. ‘Tis done, and I must perforce Vouchsafe my life in safety’s hidden course.” 

And so I wait, evading looming fate, My mystery hid deep in key-locked breast. This final thought that good with ill equates Confounds me so it’s loath to leave me rest: What laden price for soul to understand The story monsters made from riddled man! 

Finis.