Word Play (with a side of metaphysics)

I’d like to jump into the text with a discussion of Shakespeare’s play on the word “mettle” and its homonyms (i.e. medal and meddle)--word play that unifies a few spheres of discourse in the drama. We get the first instance of “metal” (a variant of “mettle”) at the very beginning of the play when Angelo implores the Duke, “Let there be some more test made of my metal/Before so noble and so great a figure/Be stamped upon it” (1.1.49). On the surface, Angelo refers to the quality of his spirit or character (his metal) and the noble responsibility about to be entrusted to his soul. There’s also an implicit meaning in the diction though, which suggests that what’s being vested in him is not only of a spiritual nature, but also dons a material badge. The language calls to mind the stamping of a coin or honorary medal, and as we come to discover, the play is all about appearance and substance, illusion and truth, outward action and inner dimension. Later in the play we get the slang “medlar” meaning “prostitute” (4.3.161) which then ironically resonates with Lucio’s indictment of Friar Lodowick (the Duke) for “meddling” in the situation (5.1.127). Then we get Friar Peter’s defense of Lodowick, saying he is not a “temporary meddler” (5.1.144). This brings me back to the movement of the spiritual and material spheres in the play; the spirit (mettle) does not meddle in matters of the ephemeral world, such as the appointment of any kind of medal of honor. At the same time, the action and drama of the play emerges out of the Duke’s impulses. In the Vedantic tradition, Brahman (the conscious principle that underlies all reality, including the manifested world) is often talked about as a divine trinity consisting of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Brahma is the creative impulse of Brahman, while Vishnu is its preserving aspect and Shiva is the force that returns all of creation to its source, Brahman. The Duke, like Brahman, creates, preserves and returns the play to its original order. Out of the Duke’s omniscient Mind, a drama arises in which the actors become lost in the illusion of the material world, mistaking it for true and substantive, and thus fall from grace. After this drama has been sustained long enough for us to learn a lesson, the Duke returns that world to its original harmony. I think one of the more spiritual lessons learned comes from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount; namely, our inner lives are just as real and consequential as our outward actions. When Isabella gets down on her knees at the end of the play and pleas for Angelo’s life, on the grounds that he should not be punished because his intent never became action and only actions are punishable; of course, ironically, the drama and excitement of the play derive entirely from thoughts, desires, and intentions. Again Shakespeare gives us a wonderful dramatic irony at the end of the play. While everything onstage is apparently resolved because no harmful action has been committed, we as an audience have learned the power of desires and thoughts to shape the drama of the world around us.