If you missed it, click here for The Reluctant Muse - Part One
How will I know what type of Muse I need to be? I asked myself.
"Listen to the speech and you will know," the immediate replying thought came into my mind.
Shrugging my shoulders, if I had shoulders, since I was invisible I don't know if I had shoulders or a body. I know I felt like I had a body but since I couldn't see myself, I could only surmise that I had one.
"Will," spoke the young woman, "Father will be most upset with thee should ye not be about the work he gave thee."
The young man did not respond. I didn't know if it was he, or the young woman I was to inspire. "Doth thou not hear my words? Hast thou gone deaf?"
They walked quickly. He remained mute. Suddenly she stopped and turned to him, pulling him to face her.
"Thou canst not deny thy father, dearest brother. It is his command ye marry Anne Hathaway post haste. Dost thou deny the child she bears?"
The young man, whom I assume is named Will, pulls himself from her grasp. She stands still watching him move away from her.
"Answer me brother. Wilt thou deny thy father?"
He stopped. As he stood steadfast to the spot, I saw his neck redden, his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
"Thou knowest my deep desire to be an actor, dear sister. To portray a character upon a stage that would move those watching to tears or laughter beyond their control. Dost not my father deny me that which I am to be?" He breathed deeply, turned and faced her.
I watched her demeanor turn from accuser to defender.
"Alas dearest brother, I knoweth thy pain, but thou canst not retreat from thy duty. Yea she be older by far than thou art, and I lament that thou lovest her not, but thy duty must prevail. It has been ruled thou art the father of the babe she bears. Can thou deny thy fatherhood?"
"Yea dear sister, I didst bed her and I shall wed her, but I shall not be denied my future, for it hath been foretold by a gypsy at King's Cross. Tis in London I shall find my fame and fortune. The stage shall be my destiny."
"Oh Will," the young woman began walking forward, "thou be a dreamer of fantasy. Thou shalt remain here and be a glover and money lender just as our father hath been to feed and clothe us. Shake thy sill notions from thy mind and be that which thou art meant to be.
They entered a dwelling, which I assumed was their home. I remained outside, perplexed, worried about why I had landed in this area.
Oh my. I was really confused. How does one be a Muse to a glover or money lender? When I was in the crystal study chamber reading about authors, artists and musicians, I never read anything about glovers, whatever that might be, or money lenders.
Oh dear. I must have landed in the wrong earth zone. What was I to do?
Without warning and actually giving me a fright, Melatio appeared.
"Little friend, why do you look so confused?"
"Whom am I to inspire? The young man is getting married and going to be a glover, whatever that is, and I don't think it is his sister. I am unsure."
"Have you searched your inner knowing that you received upon your travels here to earth?"
"Not really." I was ashamed to reply.
"Go within. You will find the answer to many questions."
He was gone. Poof, just like that.
There I was, unsure, afraid of failure, and he tells me to go within. Easy for him to say, he's not an apprentice Muse who doesn't know the first thing about being a Muse.
What else could I do? I didn't know how to get home. How was I going to get home if I ever did what I was sent to do, and was done? On my, oh my, so many questions to ask whatever it is within that holds the answers.
(to be continued)
















Comments: 46
I am excited about your idea here and enjoying the read.
If your mother tounge is English, naturally you will do better in Sh..English. I have not read Shakespeare seriously I feel. ... This is very good work. I shall follow and recommend. In fact my childhood, I read the translations, so it is difficult for me to be patient now for the Original! But I hope after reading you I will get more insight and perhaps read again..!!
Thanks for submitting to The Surreal Circus.
Thanks for submitting to
The Surreal Circus.
The Muse---The End
Me thinkest most probably not-est!
With informal 2d person singular, useth - “thou, thee, thy or thine"
1st person singular useth - mine instead of my
Be careful if the noun begins with a vowel rather than a consonant.
Knowing that it would be most difficult for me, a non Shakespearean fan, I deliberately had the Elizabethan dialog very brief.
Thank you for pointing out that I did it badly. You did it 'cutely'.
Sorry if it ruined the story for you, but I sure had fun writing it.
T'was a fine tale!
Such stuff as dreams are made of.
Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet, within a month—
Let me not think on't—Frailty, thy name is woman!—
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite
jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his back a
thousand times, and now how abhorr'd in my imagination it is!
My gorge rises at it.
This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
He, only in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
Behold the Bard of Avon!
read on good friend, be done:
"Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace;
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd,
And my sick Muse doth give an other place.
I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen;
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
He robs thee of, and pays it thee again.
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word
From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give,
And found it in thy cheek: he can afford
No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live"
or these lines from the Tempest:
which I misquote to Americans "I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined" into this land of Plymouth rock!
Thy words have smitten me beyond repair
To publish as is, I do not dare.
Now thank three for pointing out to me
A clone of Shakespeare, I'll never be.
a copy of a great Bard long dead:
What your writing says to me
should spring from thine own head!
Twas from the Muse
That I was led.
He plied me with thoughts
That be not my own
Words upon words he
Scattered, as seeds sown.
Alas he granted me no respite
Compelling me with phrases
He ordered me to write.
Tis done! Tis Done
I'm happy to say
At last the Muse
Has gone away.
Do you think i"ll miss him or will there be one to take his place?
Your Muse doth not appear reluctant...
Part Three - The End
Read Part three, liked it, commented
and recommended it - I noticed you
wisely dropped the thous and thees!