The ArT of Golf - Society of Hickory Golfers

Golf’s labor lost?
The Great Bard on the greatest game
Was Shakespeare a golfer? The following lines, lost for centuries from the history play “King
Henry IV, Part II,” have recently been “discovered” among the papers of a barrister of the period
for whom the Shakespeare family were, it appears, clients. The literary world has reacted to the following
with a stunned silence. However, those of us who are true believers will have no doubt that the
Great Bard penned the following after a round upon the links at St. Andrews.
Falstaff: Good morrow, sirs. The air is clear, the field is open
And we four stand upon the crest of creation. How shall
it unfold? Woulds’t thou have the honor in playing off?
For in this upon the first, honor is a small thing,
Having yet been won by fair attempt or achieving.
Therefore are we equals as in life every man begins
a mewling babe, not yet with tooth, his mettle still untested,
His path his own to make to glory or defeat.
PH: And yet, methinks, upon this ground, honor stands
upon itself
An no one wins but he who willingly engages to test the best
of inward passion ‘gainst outward swings of temperance.
Play on, MacDuff, play on and we three shall follow thee
As best we may in hopes of discovering fair ground from
Which our fortunes may increase with honest measures
taken.
MacDuff: Thanks to thee, gracious prince. I shall to the
challenge rise and, hoping thus for your forbearance all,
betake me to this spooning shaft. It pains me thus to
make this measure but less than willingly I would, for
mischievous humors of late have truly my poor sinews
bound with such aches as would brave Hercules bring low.
Caddy 1: (Aside) Aye, and 12 labors now are 13 with this brave
tell.
Here’s muck to add to the Augean stables.
Caddy 2: (Aside) See, he passes at the sphere like an old man,
broken with the storms of wandering slice.
Caddy 1: (Aside) And how he breaks wind. A wise man stands a
league off.
Bardolph: Well struck, sir. Truly ‘Pollo’s arc doth travel
vainly to equal merit
As the flight of thine own sweet missile. Now for it.
Zeus himself shall
Know the passing of this blazing errant, I’ll wager.
Caddy 1: (Aside) Now we’ll know what passes for wind in heaven.
Methinks we’ll see a slow worm here, ‘a tumbler that
in n’other form.
Caddy 2: (Aside) Zounds! He swings but passes all. The very
ball doth rest yet at his feet. How he trembles! But tis too
soon for rough words,
Not away from the Hole ‘o Pith, too nigh the captain’s
window. Fat Jack will soon away.
Falstaff: Bardolph, sir, thine own mother waits
upon thee three and two at the turn.
Thou liest now two with still a fair walk to the burn.
(Bardolph strikes)
There, now. In sweet heather liest thou but yet may
see the lie of it.
Do you strike, good prince, and let no pressing issue
steer you wrong.
PH: Those who press, when pressed, find no comfort in their
manner.
Yet, when pressed, some do show a finer form, whose cool intent
with gentle use makes kingly show of e’en the meanest swing.
Ye see yon bunker called the Cap’s Sire by the clubhouse wags?
To chance to carry wins a simple pitch to the flag beyond, but
failure brings to play both sand and burn and whins withal.
What say you, Jack, that courage prick us on to dare the brute
and win the fairest course? Or, take the safer course and by
discretion take the bogey but mayhaps to lose the hole.
Man, by nature, action must initiate, but oft loses
advantage by fearing to attempt. Desire so inflames
his breast that overreaching tips the balance that woulds’t
carry all obstacles when practiced with a steady hand.
I’ll strike it – thus – and take the rub, for action truly taken
Brings its own reward.
Caddy 1: (Aside) He hath carried the Cap’s Sire by 10 at least!
With such a blow that had no sign of haste nor worry. Here’s
one will take the match should bogey show a pith of sense.
Caddy 2: (Aside) How must Jack answer! I say he roundly
makes but five,
and that by rounds of disaster making, forsaking risk for sure
haven.
But look, he swings for it now, for he will surely swing later.
(Falstaff strikes)
Falstaff: Great pains have I this course undertaken, but like
a lover wooed by soft refrain hath listened to the music, not
the matter.
Thus, the lie I have is but reflection of the lie I made before
the issue.
The best of lies are for ourselves reserved,
So reason says, and grants the lie deserved.
society of hickory golfers 22
spring 2012
spring 2012
“He does that after every putt he makes!”
Golf hearts beat quickly after reading the preceding passage. There can be no doubt. The good bard was
indeed a duffer at heart. Perhaps his plays were meant to read “Par’s Labors Lost,” “19th Hole, Or What
You Will,” “A Midsummer Round’s Dream,” and “The Taming of the Slice.” Certainly, “Much Ado About
Nothing” was meant to be a farce concerning a match between rivals. It is now thought that the “Master of
the Revels” who controlled entertainment in London during Shakespeare’s time demanded the above titles
and content be changed so as to appease Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth I, who suffered from a high handicap
and was loath to see or hear anything about the links upon pain of death. Well, all’s well that ends well. As
you like it, anyway.
Eds. note: A bit of fun to end this spring issue of the Wee Nip. To close it off properly,
here’s Puck from the famous epilogue to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream...
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Illustration by Corey Swets
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