Brendan’s Reviews > Richard II > Status Update
Brendan
is starting
“Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which shows like the grief itself, but is not so:
For Sorrow’s eye, glazéd with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects,
Like perspectives which, rightly gazed upon,
Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,
Distinguish form…” (II.2)
— Oct 14, 2025 08:26PM
Which shows like the grief itself, but is not so:
For Sorrow’s eye, glazéd with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects,
Like perspectives which, rightly gazed upon,
Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,
Distinguish form…” (II.2)
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Brendan’s Previous Updates
Brendan
is starting
Alack, why am I sent for to a king,
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Where with I reigned? I hardly yet have learned
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.
Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favors of these men: were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry ‘All hail!’ to me?
So Judas did to Christ: but he in twelve
Found truth in all but one;
— Oct 16, 2025 02:42PM
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
Where with I reigned? I hardly yet have learned
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee.
Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favors of these men: were they not mine?
Did they not sometime cry ‘All hail!’ to me?
So Judas did to Christ: but he in twelve
Found truth in all but one;
Brendan
is starting
“…for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and, humored thus,
Comes at last, and with a little pin
— Oct 14, 2025 09:33PM
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and, humored thus,
Comes at last, and with a little pin
