"My soul is in the sky"

Kudos to whoever can spot the Pop-up Globe in this photo 😊

Conversations at the Pop-up Globe

Well-heeled gentleman in the middle gallery: Who are all those people down there?
Me: Those are the groundlings, the cheap tickets and the best view in the house.
Well-heeled gentleman: Are they part of the play? Or can anyone buy those tickets?

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During a school matinee of Othello:

Schoolboy 1: [whispers earnestly and at length the plot of Othello to his chum]

Schoolboy 2: Oh, thankyou... I understand now.

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Lady [peering at my lanyard]: Why are you volunteering here?

Me: Because it's fun!!

Lady: Oh...

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And, without fail, every time I volunteer there will be a version of this conversation:

Friendly fellow volunteer/audience member: So, what do you do?

Me: I'm-a-PhD-student-in-English-Literature-looking-at-medieval-drama-in-the-modern-context.

Friendly fellow volunteer/audience member, light suffusing their features: Ah! So that's why you're here! Living research!

At first I tried earnestly to explain that Shakespearean drama is not medieval but Elizabethan/Jacobean, i.e. early modern, and that I am at the Globe first and foremost because I love it... now I just smile sweetly and say, "Indeed."

I am also asked fairly regularly if I am an actor; I have no idea why (perhaps the 'dancer's posture'?) And someone asked me today how I do my hair. Life is never dull at the Pop-up Globe. 😊

Dream of the Rood

For Good Friday, here is an extract from one of my favourite poems, the Anglo-Saxon Dream of the Rood, thought to be one of the oldest poems in the English language. Rood is the old word for cross or crucifix.

Hwæt! Ic swefna cyst secgan wylle,
hwaet me gemætte to midre nihte,
syðþan reordberend reste wunedon!
þuhte me þæt ic gesawe syllicre treow
on lyft lædan, leohte bewunden,
beama beorhtost. Eall þæt beacen wæs
begoten mid golde. Gimmas stodon
fægere æt foldan sceatum, swylce þær fife wæron
uppe on þam eaxlegespanne. Beheolden þær engel drythtnes ealle,
fægere þurh forðgesceaft. Ne wæs ðær huru fracodes gealaga,
ac hine þær beheoldon halige gastas,
men ofer moldan, ond eall þeos mære gesceaft.
Syllic wæs se sigebeam, ond ic synnum fah,
forwunded mid wommum. Geseah ic wuldres treow,
waedum geweorðode, wynnum scinan,
gegyred mid golde; gimmas hæfdon
bewrigene weorðlice wealdendes treow.
Hwæðre ic þuhr þæt gold ongytan meahte
earmra ærgewin, þæt hit ærest ongan
swætan on þa swiðran healfe.

It loses something in translation, but because the Old English is so hard to read, here is a rough version in modern English:

Listen! I will tell the best of visions,
What came to me in the middle of the night,
When the speach-bearers took their rest!
I thought that I saw a most wondrous tree,
Lifted on high, wound round with light,
Brightest of beams. That same beacon was
Shining with gold. Gems stood
At the corners of the earth, and five were there also
Upon the crossbeam. All there beheld the angels of the Lord,
Fair through creation. This was no wicked gallows,
But beheld there by holy spirits,
By men over all the earth, and by all creation.
Wondrous was the victory-tree, and I stained by sin,
With guilt wounded. Saw I this wondrous tree,
Arrayed in garments, with joys shining,
Gilded in gold; gems had
Gloriously covered this tree of the forest.
Yet, through the gold, I perceived
The age-old battle of good and evil, so that
On the right side the cross began to bleed.

Old English should really be spoken aloud, so here is a reading of the poem I rather like; it also has the words to the poem in both Old and modern English, which is handy:

Popule meus, quid feci tibi? aut in quo contristavi te? Responde mihi. Quia eduxi te de terra Aegypti: parasti crucem Salvatori tuo.

 ~ Reproaches from the Good Friday liturgy

Holy Week | Hours of the Cross

For Holy Week, the York Hours of the Cross, in their original Middle English; find a modern English translation here.


Matins
lord iesu cryste, I pray þe here my steuenen.
for þi swete modyr sak, þat es qwhen of heuen;
þi wysdome of þe fadyr, þe god ryghtwensnes.
God and man, at morne tyde, taken he es,
for-sakyne of hys frendes & left – withouten les.
Betrayede to þe jewys and dampnyde sackles.
lord for þat ylk payn þu suffyrde at morne tyde
lat neuer my saule on domis day be forlorne.

Prime
At prime led was iesu unto Pilate
yai band hym as a thefe, and sor hym smate;
many fals witness, þai wryed hym many gate,
þai spytted iesuys face, þe light of heuens yate.
lord for þat ilke shame þu soffird at prime,
lat neuer my saul on domesday mystime.

Tierce
At þe tyme of oundron þai gun cry & call,
For hethyng þai hym cled in purper & in pall,
þai set on his heyde a cron of thorn wit-all,
and gerte hym bere on his bak þe cros to þe pynstall.
lord for þat ilk shame, þu sofyrd in þat place,
of deydly synne me to shryue, þu gyue grace.

Sext
At þe tyme of myd-day þai dyd hym on þe rode
Betwix two theuves þat had spylt manys blode;
for þe panys he threysted il þai gaue him drynk ungod,
Bytter gall [.....] he wald noght of þat fod.
lord for þat ilk shame þat was þi body neghe
Scheld me fro my il fays, þe world, fend & fleshe.

Nones
At þe tyme of none iesu gun cry'
he wytte his saul to his fadyr, [Eli]
A knyght smat him to þe hert, had he no mercy;
þe sone be-gane to wax myrk qwen iesu gun dy.
lord out of þi syd ran a ful fayre flude
As clere as well water our rannsom be þi blode.

Evensong
At þe tyme of euen-sang þai tok hym fro þe rod
his myght was in his godhede, so gracius and god,
þe meydcyne of his paynes, þe schedyng his blod,
Be noryschyng to us of or gastly fod.
lord for þat ilk schame þat þu doun was tane
lat neuer my saul wit deydly syn be sclayne.

Compline
At our of comepely, thei leiden hym in graue,
The noble bodi of Iesu, that mankind schal saue:
With spicerie he was biried, hooli writ to fulfille,
Thenke we sadli on his deeth, that schal saue us from helle.


O blessed chryst, these houres canonycall,
To thee I offer with meke deuocyon:
For us thou hast suffered those paynes all,
In thy greuous agony by lyke reason,
So by the remembraunce of thy passyon,
Make me according to my busyness,
Partaker of thy crowne and glory endless.

Detail from the Passion and Resurrection sequence (14th century stained glass), All Saints Pavement, York

Telegraph | The first Shakespearean scholar?

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2017/04/02/notebook-written-unknown-17th-century-william-shakespeare-scholar/

Overheard at the Pop-up Globe

"It's better than I expected."
~ laconic teen trying very hard to pretend she is not enjoying herself

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"It's good... but not as good as last year!"
~ approx. 10 year old school twinkie, mournfully, at a riotous performance of As You Like It

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Lady: Oh look there, I think it's Anthony Harper [law firm & Pop-up Globe foundation sponsor]!
Me: ?!
Lady: Look! It is! It's Anthony Harper!
Me: That's Tobias Grant [commercial director].
Lady: It's Tony Harper himself! I'm sure of it!
Me: *shrugs*

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Lady 1: Oh, is it Henry V today? I thought it was Henry VIII.
Lady 2: Oh, no, dear, I'm sure it was Richard V.
*ushers scanning tickets exchange agonised glances*