"You taught me language, and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your language!"
-
The Tempest, 1.2
......poor Caliban, an example of western imperialism imposing itself on other cultures!
'I have of late--but
wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
you seem to say so.'- Hamlet.
I love the recital of this by Richard E Grant at the end of 'Withnail and I'. I think this play perhaps grew out of Shakespeare's own existential angst as he came to terms with the death of his own son Hamnet; this perhaps gives more poignancy to his words
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 19–28
....its a pretty gloomy passage, but they are the words of a doomed man!
