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Lord Oxford &
Shakespeare:
CIPHER, IN THE HEART
OF THE PHoeNIX
Elwood LeRoy Miller, Feb. 21, 2016
preface
Now come we
here to make our final pass,
And, in this
pass, we let our passions pass,
No more to
dwell on dark-things of history,
But, to let
be that fraud, that sure calumny--
Those, O dastardly
perfidies—Let us not dwell,
I tell
myself, no more! Now, onely simple truth.
Our story ‘s
simple, very clear and easy to tell:
De Vere was
truly the OnE and onely, forsooth:
Th’ evidence confirms, we think you’ll
agree
And Truth being True, we’ll state it in poetry.
INRODUCTION:
THE PHoeNIX:
2 ToNeS
OnE ToNGe
[Playing
around, the Muse’s imps tease me, with urging me—I mean it, actually “urging”
me—to throw in one of their ditties, which is: to note that spoken “Two Tones,
One Tonge” spoken in ordinary fast speech, sounds like Chinese! Chinese, which Lord Oxford had an interest
in, and, of course, especially Chinese poetry—how do I know this? Read the Arte
of Englishe Posie, 1589—in any case, maybe my Chinese Muse is chiming in, which
well may be the case, to remind me, that—spoken at ordinary pace in Chinese
language spirit, “TwOOO TOOOnnNe, OnnE ToonG” gives two tones—forget the one
tongue. Can one had a “ha, ha,” in an important document?—A decipherment, I am
aware, which may be one of the most famous in history—certainly literary
history!]
Playing With An Odd Creature:
Turn-around ‘s ‘Vere Play: EO=OE
To discredit
these findings, much needs be explain’d,
How two such
different persons could have one plot;
That in One
word Two names are somehow wrought,
But, One, as
word, is nothing, a zero that be retained.
And, in that
zero, is the very word and name of cipher,
Exactly the
same. It is the truth we’re here to discover.
[Note: the above & immediately
below, refers to the fact that both Shakespeare and Earl of Oxford (OE), uses the
exact same unique cipher to discuss why they can’t reveal their names—as odd as
that one is. The issue is dealt with at length—the two names are the names of
many things, Oxford’s name, Edward and Oxford, and de Vere, etc. and
Shakespeare is another of two names, etc. Discursive discussions follows
elsewhere. No further commentary will be given here. If the reader encounters a “both” it’s a reference
to theat. elm]
But, each to
the othere never can be its owne
For In both cases, in both cases, too, the truth
Can’t ere be
told: ‘Cause there’s none, forsooth!
Why? Because
in both cases, one is always none!
How can such
an odd creature, as that One,
Hide its
unknowne identity, you ask?
Why, there
is nowhere for suche a thing to bide,
As One is
None, nothing ‘s got nowhere to hide!
And then the
GENIUS THOUGHT occurred to hime,
As one-in-one,
he suddenly heard, two songs, one hyme
As no WORD must tell his hidden name, “Well then!
If it’s all
the same, I think use “OE”, my dipthong,”
He, to
himself, did saye, for I have vow ‘d only
To not reveal
by WORD my name, cause of my blame;
The Truth
behind the reason that I must be unknown.
The Dipthong
is my Saviour, there no “word” here,
And yet it
be, and Heaven’s owne will, certainly,
That he,
with such an extreme high-called destiny,
Can merely
sing the soul of me,
The Phoenix
bird is here, de Vere. That’s history.
“Aye, and
there I’d be, not “e” or “o”
Or “o” or
“e”, or any such sound that be,
But hidden
in the sounding slide,
Of its own
sounding of its sound,
As a
dipthong, would have it for its owne song.
For a
dipthong is no word when heard—
And the
hearing of it, is its own nature—
If you like.
Let that then your pleasure.
“Two tones,
one tonge, and none a word,
That is how
I’ll carry on the name of Edward,”
He said, and,
like a true penitent, that he was--
Over and
over he rehearsed the story, word
For word, he
did tell again, the same old story
—“One more
of the same” and o’re and ore —
Till,
frankly, it even got to be a bit-o-a-bore!
Then,
suddenly, he was free to be,
The Greatest
Wonder of them All
Ever and
onely One, for such is the tale ,
Of OE, who
took that Sun-struck name,
Of that glorious
bird of mythic Arabie,
Who lives
and dies in its own Oneness—
Never are
there two—always onely one,
Born from
the ashes of his own firey death,
Such the greatest
Poet ever says his breath
Is of the
same nature as that which is eternal
Where lOvE
sits, too, within, ever as supernal.
And so in
1592, he wrote-up his cipher plan,
In a poem
called “Love” he detailed the plot.
To be, he
revealed, what he willed be forever
Preserv’d, forevere,
living as a mythic ciphere.
It’s “The PhOEnix”
that’s where Ever is not!
Now, he would
give his code, tell the world—
That he ‘s a
person, too, has a name, Edward!
And so, in
1593, he took to write a book, indeed,
Named, if
you can believe, “The Phoenix Nest.”
And thus
dared to write, and more daringly told,
His Phoenix
code, of himself as OE, we attest.
He would so everywhere—in
epitaphs, elegies,
Myths, too,
would tell Of the Queen of Heaven
And her deadly,
punishing, Arraignments,
In
everything he could—like man possessed,
Indeed, he
was, but not because. . .
In any case,
he declares himself guilty and sworn
Never to
reveal if ever he was born.
That is, he
said, himself, his “extreme destiny.”
To that, and
hard facts of life we can all agree.
P.S.
[One genius for that, we agree, but two—
With the
same plot, each, the same game?
The same
maxtix of “one” and, O, my Lord,
Someone hold
my hand—if that is true!
And each
adopted the same bird, too,
The Phoenix—Greatest
Mythic Miracle?]
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