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>two posts then the discussion deviates unrecognizably. Is this a record? I've gotta believe that it's been done with the first reply. :) http://home.mn.rr.com/wwftd/
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Honorificabilitudinitatibus
Dear indianaugust,
I had a look at this a couple of days back and tried to work out a number of anagrams which contained either Francis, Bacon or a combination of both. There is only one 'c' in the word so the combination is out. I couldn't come up with anything significant using the other words. Sorry.
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Welcome, indianaugust, both to this board and to the U.S. I saw your nostalgic comment, and feel compelled to add that I think most childhoods must seem nostalgic in some ways--I mean, children have pretty much no responsibilities, for the most part. I imagine that, if you had been one of those nimbuwallahs (neat word, thank you!) and had to worry about things like whether you had enough supplies, and how much money you'd make for the day, you mightn't look on summer with such nostalgia. I enjoyed my summers as a child, but even then didn't like the heat and the bugs. Here's our past discussion on shaconian: http://wordsmith.org/board/showflat.pl?Cat=&Board=words&Number=13659
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I found this randomly on the net, don't know how much credence can be given to it....
The anagram is
"hi ludi F. Baconis nati tuiti orbi" translation: These plays, F. Bacon's offspring, are preserved for the world
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I found this randomly on the net, don't know how much credence can be given to it....
The anagram is
"hi ludi F. Baconis nati tuiti orbi" translation: These plays, F. Bacon's offspring, are preserved for the world
I had a feeling that, with seven 'i's in it, it had to have been a Latin anagram. However, I wouldn't put too much faith in such a presumptive statement as the one above. Some people spend a lot of time trying to bulid apt anagrams out of names, phrases and quotes with often remarkable results (you can find the results on many joke pages on the web) and I think this is what has happened here. I think we can safely consign this one to the crank heap.
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I have long resisted with great difficulty the temptation to post my all-time favorite poem, Richard Hovey's Barney McGee. But "honorificabilitudinitatibus" makes the temptation irresistable. tswum will find a few wwftd’s for his amusement.
Note, and apology: The was originally posted in two columns, with the pre-format command. tsuwm tells me that made the page go wide, so I've just not converted to one column -- which becomes very vertical; to minimize verticality, the last few verses are put in a separate post which is three posts below.
Barney McGee, there’s no end of good luck in you Will-o’-the-wisp, with a flicker of Puck in you, Wild as a bull-pup and all of his pluck in you, — Let a man tread on your coat and he’ll see! — Eyes like the lakes of Killarney for clarity, Nose that turns up without any vulgarity, Smile like a cherub, and hair that is carroty, — Wow, you’re a rarity, Barney McGee! Mellow as Tarragon, prouder than Aragon — Hardly a paragon, you will agree— Here’s all that’s fine to you! Books and old wine to you! Girls be divine to you, Barney McGee!
Lucky the day when I met you unwittingly, Dining where vagabonds came and went flittingly,— Here’s some Barbera to drink it befittingly; That day at Silvio’s, Barney McGee! Many’s the time we have quaffed our Chianti there, Listened to Silvio quoting us Dante there,— One more to drink Nebiolo spumante there, How we’d pitch Pommery into the sea! There where the gang of us met ere Rome rang of us, They had the hang of us to a degree. How they would trust to you! That was but just to you. Here’s o’er the dust to you, Barney McGee!
Barney McGee, when you’re sober you scintillate, But when you’re in drink you’re the pride of the intellect; Dival a one of us ever came in till late, Once at the bar where you happened to be— Every eye there like a spoke in you centering, You with your eloquence, blarney, and bantering— All Vagabondia shouts at your entering, King of the Tenderloin, Barney McGee! There’s no satiety in your society With the variety of your esprit. Here’s a long purse to you, And a great thirst to you! Fate be no worse to you, Barney McGee!
Och, and the girls whose poor hearts you deracinate, Whirl and bewilder and flutter and fascinate Faith, it’s so killing you are, you assassinate, — Murder’s the word for you, Barney McGee! Bold when they’re sunny and smooth when they’re showery, — Oh, but the style of you, fluent and flowery! Chesterfield’s way, with a touch of the Bowery! How would they silence you, Barney machree? Naught can your gab alley, learned as Rabelais (You in his abbey lay once on a spree). Here’s to the smile of you (Oh, but the guile of you!) And a long while of you, Barney McGee!
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...sung to the tune of "A Heavy Dragoon is the Residuum"?
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Our local meteorologist, Larry Green, maintains taht Indian summer is a technical term for a warm period following the first hard freeze in the fall. Of course here in Denver we don't need to wait for the first day of fall for a hard freeze. Some yeras ago we had a snowstorm on seventh September that broke down so many trees we had to organize to clean up the neighborhood. We piled branches ten feet deep on a five acre site in the center of the neighborhood. That's a LOT of branches. The city mulched them for us, and the mulch pile itself was estimated at over 50 tons.
This may not seem like much to many people, but this is an area where no trees grow naturally, and the ones that are here are expensive to cultivate and maintain.
TEd
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[continuation -- see "note and apology, in red, 3 posts above]
Facile with phrases of length and Latinity, Like honorificabilitudinity, Where is the maid could resist your vicinity, Wiled by the impudent grace of your plea? Then your vivacity and pertinacity Carry the day with the divil’s audacity; No mere veracity robs your sagacity Of perspicacity, Barney McGee. When all is new to them, what will you do to them? Will you be true to them? Who shall decree? Here’s a fair strife to you! Health and long life to you! And a great wife to you, Barney McGee!
Barney McGee, you’re the pick of gentility; Nothing can phase you, you’ve such a facility; Nobody ever yet found your utility,— That is the charm of you, Barney McGee; Under conditions that others would stammer in, Still unperturbed as a cat or a Cameron, Polished as somebody in the Decameron, Putting the glamor on prince or Pawnee! In your meanderin’, love, and philanderin’, Calm as a mandarin sipping his tea! Under the art of you, Parcel and part of you, Here’s to the heart of you, Barney McGee!
You who were ever alert to befriend a man, You who were ever the first to defend a man, You who had always the money to lend a man, Down on his luck and hard up for a V! Sure, you’ll be playing a harp in beatitude (And a quare sight you will be in that attitude)— Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude, You’ll find your latitude, Barney McGee. That’s no flim-flam at all, frivol or sham at all, Just the plain — Damn it all, have one with me! Here’s luck and more to you! Friends by the score to you, True to the core of you, Barney McGee!
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I was recently gifted The Complete Pelican Shakespeare, and a companion book came along with it that provides the citation for the origin of the Latin anagram derived from honorificabilitudinitatibus. Here's the complete passage for context (bringing this thread back up because it's short enough):
>The anti-Stratfordian traditon began with the champions of Francis Bacon, who in their heyday a century ago specialized in finding cryptograms and anagrams claiming Bacon's authorship buried in the plys. The first renowned Baconian, coincidentally aptly named Delia Bacon, is renowned for her attempt to dig up Shakespeare's bones in hope of proving her namesake's title to the works. From there it only got wilder. The cipher craze began with a fiery American congressman and utopian reformer named Ignatius Donnelly, who in 1888 published a thousand-page tome called The Great Cryptogram: Francis Bacon's Cipher in the So-Called Shakespeare Plays. Donnelly also credited Bacon with the so-called works of Marlowe, Montaigne, and many others--780 plays in all. Others followed suit, in the apparent conviction that Hamlet and King Lear were less interesting as tragedies than as braintasers. One erudite Baconian, Sir Edward Durning-Lawrence, discovered that the playfully pendantic word honorificabilitudinitatibus in Love's Labor Lost could be rearranged to read Hi ludi F. Baconis nati tuiti orbi, or "These plays, F. Bacon's offsrping. are preserved for the world." Rarely has classical learning been put to such ingenious use.<
--from The Authorship Debate, by Joseph Sobran; included in The QPB Companion to Shakespeare, edited by Brand Geist, 2002
I noticed our resident Latin scholar hasn't checked in on this one. ["alert"--aside--non-white font](hi, Faldage!) [/"alert"] Wonder if you can corroborate that translation for us?
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