Saturday, 14 February 2015

Twelfth Night, or What You Will [review]

by William Shakespeare

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
(Page 64)

Shakespeare so far never disappointed me. I admit that in general I prefer tragedies, which I really love, but also with the comedies the reading is always very pleasant! This here is just light, nice, predictable, pleasant. And even in the most stupid quote Uncle Bill make me love every word he writes, for the images they evoke, for the musicality, for the choice of words. A very beautiful experience of reading!


If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
[Orsino in the incipit]

What else may hap to time I will commit.
(Page 6)

Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man.
(Page 15)

'tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
(Page 20)

O time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie!
(Page 27)

Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.
(Page 48)

Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.
Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me, thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.
Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, Andrew Ague-Cheek.
Sir Andrew Ague-Cheek's letter
(Pages 65-66)

Or I am mad/ or else this is a dream.
(Page 76)

[The old vice] Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
Cries ah, ha! to the devil:
Like a mad lad,
Pare thy nails, dad.
Adieu, goodman drivel.
(Page 80)

And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
(Page 96)

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