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Thomas Hartney
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Saturday, April 02, 2005 - 9:40 pm: | 
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Shakespeare's Sonnet 128
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickled, they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
Making dead wood more blest than living lips.
Since SAUCY JACKS so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
in this context a "jack" seems to be "a device with a quill to pluck string of harpsichord etc"
Since this was the first time i had seen the two words together outside of the ripper letter, i was surprised. was the author of the postcard previously considered to have coined the phrase himself? if so, this is a likely origin of his creation... or perhaps just a coincidence. Anyway, the poem does take on a new light with the Ripper background!
Cheers,
Tom Hartney |
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