To Be Or Not To Be

To be, or not to be, — that is the question: —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? — To die, to sleep, —
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; —
To sleep, perchance to dream: — ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death, —
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know naught of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Hamlet, Act III, scene i

The King of Ireland is a Billy Goat - Vive la roi Puck!

Wait a doggone minute! We handed the reigns of power to a billy goat in 2000 and again in 2004. It was called an election. Puck? It would be a shame to waste Shakespearean names without realizing that he about had it right for own own King Puck:

From "A Midsummer Night's Dream":

The audience is introduced to Puck in Act II Scene I when Puck encounters one of Titania's fairies [name unknown]. When she recognizes Puck she says,

Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he? (Act ii., Scene i.)

To this Puck replies,

Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there. (Act ii., Scene i.)

Randy Shiner

KING PUCK

Irish Town Honors His Goatness
In the town of Killorglin in County Kerry, the reins of power are handed to a wild billy goat once a year. It's an opportunity for the people to let out their inner beast -- and for tourists to party the night away, writes reader Desmond F. Kelly.

The crowning of a king has always been cause for celebration. In the small town of Killorglin in the south-west corner of Ireland, it still is -- with a hitch. The king in question is a goat.

PHOTO GALLERY: KING GOAT
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"King Puck" is one of the last regents of Ireland, though his reign is a short one -- from August 10 to 12 every year. Nevertheless, the small Irish town of Killorglin (about 100 km. from Cork) has been crowing King Puck since (officially) 1610. The goat-fawning fair is one of the oldest of Ireland's traditional rural celebrations -- and one of its better known.

Still, despite the fair's fame, its origins are somewhat unclear. One theory has the fair dating back to pagan times. Puck, as the male goat is called, could have been seen as a symbol of fertility for a late summer harvest festival.

The more modern theory is that King Puck is a celebration of the fact that a herd of goats, which had been grazing in the countryside nearby, were scared up by pillaging “Roundheads,” the soldiers of Oliver Cromwell. One goat galloped off towards the town in a state of fear, thus alerting the townspeople to the approaching danger. (A third, and less romantic, version involves legal loopholes, greedy landlords and tax evasion.)

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Whatever its origins, it has grown to be an interesting collection of traditions and customs. Some days before the fair begins, a group of the most fearless and strong lads from the town head off into the McGillycuddy's Reeks (as the nearby hills are called) and attempt to corner and capture one of the wild goats grazing there. Bumps, cuts and bruises suffered during the chase are, of course, worn as badges of honor.

While their fathers and brothers are off traipsing through the hills, the young girls of the town compete to be crowned as “Queen Puck.” The competition entails them writing essays and giving interviews about why they want to be queen, and why they think that they are the best choice for the role -- a rather gruelling selection process.

Once the goat has been wrestled down from the heights, he is paraded through the town on what is known as “Gathering Day,” the day before the fair starts. The goat is then placed onto the lowest tier of a three-tiered platform. The Queen then delivers the Puck Proclamation and crowns her new king. The newly crowned king is then elevated to the topmost tier of the platform, there to look down on, and survey his subjects below for the next 3 days. Three days of trading and drinking, and singing, and drinking, and storytelling, and drinking follow -- giving rise to the saying, “Where a goat acts the king, the people can act the goat!”

For the town of Killorglin -- population 1,359 -- the goat festival has turned into a cash cow. More than 100,000 people pass through during the three days of the fair, and festival organizers estimate the event is worth over €6 million to the local economy. Puck Fair is one of the only places, and times, of the year in Ireland that the pubs are allowed to stay open till three in the morning. At the end of it all, the king is dethroned (in a nice way) and returned to the wild to rejoin his comrades on the foothills of Ireland's highest mountain.

Submitted by Desmond F. Kelly in Karlsruhe, Germany