Guest Post by Kit Grindstaff, author of The Flame In The Mist!

The Fun of Olde Englishe à la Will.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears….” Julius Caesar time, English lit class, circa teenage. Moans. Groans. Something bounces off of your ear, coming from the back row. Bad boy Tom Latimer, flicking rubber chewed paper pellets again. Had I been well enough versed in the language of William Shakespeare, I might have turned and told Master Latimer not to be such a scurvy knave. Because, s’blood! Unlike most of my 14-year-old peers, I actually liked Shakespeare. And let’s face it, he’s stood the test of time. His works have been translated into over 80 languages (including Albanian and Zulu), and his plays still run on stages worldwide and have been made into countless movies. The man was no beef-witted moldwarp, that’s for sure.

Phrases the great bard coined turn up in everyday conversation more than you may realize. For example, “Neither a borrower nor a lender be.” When I was growing up, my mum wagged many a warning finger at me spouting that one, though I don’t think she knew she was quoting from Hamlet. And how about “If music be the food of love, play on”? That’s from Twelfth Night. “The course of true love never did run smooth.” From A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “Love is blind…,” from The Merchant of Venice.

Then there’s “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?” More than 400 years after Romeo and Juliet was penned (or quilled), Juliet’s question is still one of the most well-known in the English language. The name “Romeo” has taken on generic meaning, has been borrowed by rappers (L’il Romeo) and the star-crossed lovers have turned up in pop songs by artists from Peggy Lee to Taylor Swift. As for the “wherefore art thou” bit, though never used in that way these days, everyone knows what the words mean. Roughly translated, “Where are you, R-man?”

Mmm, not so pretty. Maybe it’s because Shakespeare’s language is archaic that it sounds so poetic—to me, anyway. It flows with a musical lilt. And the vernacular of that time was just so wonderfully fun. Take insults. “Thou hedge-born malt-worm!” or “Get thee from me, thou crook-pated codpiece!” (“cod”, but the way, having nothing to do with fish), or “Thou art naught but an unchin-snouted pumpion!” You don’t even need to know what the words mean. The spleeny, unmuzzled pribblings of yore are so much more colorful than the terms of non-endearment we use today. Let’s be done with lumpish mammering! A pox on’t!

Hush, but do I hear cries of “Emily, Emily, wherefore art thou, Emily”? Is this guest-poster a
complete addle-head? Or just guilty of Bardolatry? Either way, I had best not be a tardy-gaited clot-pole, but hasten to take my leave of you.

And so I shall.

Kit Grindstaff is the author of The Flame in the Mist, a spooky upper middle grade fantasy adventure, set in a parallel version of Olde England. Not for the motley-minded or lily-livered.