After stuffing Christmas decorations in rubber bins and garbage bags, after consuming the last Christmas cookie crumb, after shelving the Christmas cards I know I won’t be sending, after putting away the thoughtful gifts I received, I am left with one gift that will never be used. Not for the usual reasons of fit or taste or intentional uselessness. The postcards my daughter for me are too dear to deposit in any mailbox. She paired lines from Shakespeare with pictures she took of our dog Jane.
Here is Jane in a witch’s cape:
The lines are Falstaff’s from Henry IV: “You starveling, you elfskin, you dried neat’s tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you stockfish! O, for breath to utter what is like thee! “
Here we have Jane in a Halloween mask:
Jane looks very like one of the Weird Sisters Macbeth addresses:
you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.
Next a Frenchified Jane in a trench coat, beret and silk scarf. She’s brought a box of Panko to coat the birds in front of her.
The lines are from Measure for Measure. Isabella pleads for her brother’s life:
Go to your bosom
Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
And finally, Jane sick in bed:
Paired with an excerpt from Sonnet 147:
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease.
Happy New Year, everyone.