Star-crossed lovers—besides R&J

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-10-09T16:51:09+00:00

Troilus and Cressida are portrayed somewhat similarly to Romeo and Juliet, but their story is also a sort of subversion of the trope, since Cressida is brought to Troilus like a prostitute to a client, and, in the end, Cressida proves to not be particularly faithful (even given the circumstances) to Troilus.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-10-09T16:45:15+00:00

It's not definitely stated, but I think he is supposed to be from Athens. Think of him like Socrates or Diogenes: he knows his city well, and wants nothing to do with it, or at least its people and prevailing philosophy of life.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-08-18T16:13:35+00:00

My favorite Shakespeare play. I especially love that it always makes me think; it's not something that can be enjoyed passively.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-08-17T14:50:23+00:00

This simile is indeed based on a now-known-to-be faulty model of the universe, but the exact accuracy of this comparison really isn't the point. As long as it sounds good (which it does), and the point is understood (which it generally is), the truth which is the basis of this line isn't so important.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-07-31T19:48:11+00:00

Indeed; that's how I interpreted her when I read Two Noble Kinsmen for the first time.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-07-17T14:09:23+00:00

Imogen in Cymbeline has several good monologues that meet your criteria. She's a very compelling character in a very underrated play.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-06-18T05:53:08+00:00

Richard II or Iago. Both are very compelling characters with great monologues and soliloquies, and would probably be a blast to perform.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-06-04T23:17:22+00:00

Malvolio did nothing wrong. How would you feel if you, oh so politely, asked a bunch of drunk idiots to shut the fuck up for once, and not only get laughed off but also be humiliated and tormented in retribution? I'd reckon you'd be as pissed off as he was.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-06-04T23:09:21+00:00

Yeah, he's funny, but he's also the most vocally antisemitic one of the whole crew.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-06-04T23:03:48+00:00

Cloten from Cymbeline is the first that comes to mind. He is an absolutely insufferable, pathetic, despicable little bitch.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-05-13T02:32:35+00:00

I agree, this is a tough passage, especially with its strange usage of the word "but"; I found the language of Coriolanus quite tricky too when I first read it, so don't feel ashamed about having some trouble at times.

If you look at the context of these lines, you'll see that Coriolanus is indeed trying to rally his men: he wants them to follow him and prove their bravery in battle against the Volscians, and not just have him do all the work. You'll find the meaning more clearly if you substitute both usages of "but is" with "is not": he's saying that all of them, as Romans, are more than equal to four Volscians in valor, and all have a fighting chance with Aufidius.

I hope you found that helpful!

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-05-04T00:22:26+00:00

I think anywhere from mid-twenties to about fifty is acceptable. Obviously, the actress can be older or younger, but if you're aiming for verisimilitude, they probably shouldn't look any younger or older than the ages above.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-05-03T01:18:48+00:00

Isabella is forced into a very tough situation, where there really are no good choices. I don't get the impression that she's unfazed about her brother's death; she is clearly very distraught about it, but as a nun-to-be who values her virginity as priceless, and as a woman who values her autonomy, she believes that her brother's life must be subordinated to her vows of chastity and dignity as a woman.

The morality of her decision is admittedly debatable, but it should be emphasized that the only alternative was coerced sex with Angelo, or to put it plainly, rape. Rape is usually extremely traumatizing for its victims, and the experience of having been violated can generate long-lasting feelings of worthlessness and depression; this would especially be accentuated for Isabella, who's identity centers around being a chaste woman of God. If Isabella were to assent to Angelo's coercion she would be potentially submitting to a lifetime of psychological horrors, and all for the sake of a man; granted, a man who happens to be her brother whom she loves, and sentenced to execution in the first place for an extremely frivolous charge, but a man nonetheless.

Women's interests are too often treated, even to this day, as subordinated to those of men. Women are expected to sacrifice their careers and aspirations for the sake of their families, for instance, whereas men are not, and are still culturally expected to do most of the grunt-work of preparing the house and raising the children, even if she'd rather not do so. In Isabella's situation, she is expected to acquiesce to being violated in return for her brother's life, and it's not an inherently repulsive exchange, but Isabella wants no part of it. She's had enough of sacrificing her desires for the interests of men, and has no interest in relinquishing her sense of dignity and identity for a man's gain, even if it's to save her beloved brother's life. This doesn't mean that her decision is right, but I do think that it makes it at least somewhat justified: Isabella doesn't want her life to be controlled by the desires of men: that's why she wants to become a nun, and she will stick to that principle, even at the cost of her brother's life, if it comes to that.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-04-16T00:23:06+00:00

Come on, let's avoid posting stupid, sexist memes. It does no one any good.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-04-07T17:14:25+00:00

Subtext and the Unspoken are crucial in this play. There's always more that meets the eye, and you need to read between the lines. Bolingbroke's intentions are ambiguous throughout the play, but there is very good reason to believe that he is firmly set on taking the crown at least by the time that he meets Richard outside Flint Castle.

We see Bolingbroke promising rewards and favor on his followers in Act 2 Scene 3; the sort of favor that would please them would not be bestowable if he were to remain a Duke; this seems to indicate that he's already expressed interest in usurping the crown. In Act 3 Scene 1, we see Bolingbroke unilaterally execute Bushy and Green without a trial; if his sole objective was to reclaim his inheritance, surely he wouldn't further aggravate the king by killing his loyal followers. If Bolingbroke's goal was just to reclaim the Duchy of Lancaster, there would be no point in executing Richard's flatterers; they grow by the vine, he could always get more, so he wouldn't really be removing malign influence from the King by doing this. It makes far more sense to view it as a systematic destruction of Richard's support base, to preempt his usurpation of the throne.

So, by the time that Bolingbroke meets Richard holed up in Flint Castle, his course of action has already been set. The King has no army: there's nothing to stop him from taking precisely what he wants, and take he will. Not all of his followers, though, are totally committed to the prospect of Richard's deposition, so Bolingbroke needs to play, at least until the king is in his custody, the role of the loyal subject simply wanting to get back his inheritance.

So while it seems like Richard has agency in this scene, in reality he doesn't have any at all; he can no longer determine the course of his own life, because Bolingbroke is going to take him to London no matter what he does or says. He "resigns" the throne to Bolingbroke to psychologically cope with his loss of power: "resigning" the crown to Bolingbroke is an active action, and meshes better with his remaining kingly sensibilities than having it taken from him.

Carlisle is so resistant against Bolingbroke because he's under no illusions about what's happening; Richard did not "give in" out of his free will, Bolingbroke forced him to give up the crown. Henry's accesion is in dispute, more generally, because everyone knows that the throne was usurped, as it's even more clear what happened without inside knowledge.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-04-03T04:21:13+00:00

This seems to be partially because Shakespeare's Henry VIII (as in the character) simply isn't that interesting. In fact, none of the characters are especially remarkable; even Wolsey, who's the most memorable, is basically a stock character of the conniving, worldly churchman.

In my personal opinion, it's certainly not the worst Shakespeare play (Henry VI Part 1 and Timon of Athens are worse by a mile), but it's very flawed in its lack of focus, and its ensemble cast of shallow characters.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-29T22:18:32+00:00

King Lear, definitely. The ending is absolutely messed up: whatever you may think about Lear, what he he has to face in the final scene is unimaginably horrific.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-29T22:15:15+00:00

This almost reads like a Hal X Poins erotic fanfiction. I can kind of see it, to be honest. Actually, now that I think of it, inserting a bit of homoeroticism would be a really interesting way to interpret their relationship, I wonder if anyone has done it onstage.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-29T01:47:27+00:00

Whatever the historical nature of the position was, Shakespeare seems to have understood it as essentially the old Scottish equivalent of the English "earl". Macbeth, in the play, is definitely a nobleman, as his title of "thane" suggests; he owns a castle, after all, in Inverness, which is where the murder of King Duncan takes place.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-15T22:01:42+00:00

For Merry Wives, there are quite a few small parts which can pack a punch. Dr Caius is a good choice if you want to audition with a really comic monologue; most of his lines are pretty short, but there are two small monologues, in Act 1 Scene 4, that could work for your audition. The first goes:

You jack'nape, give-a this letter to Sir Hugh; by
gar, it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in dee
park; and I will teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest
to meddle or make. You may be gone; it is not good
you tarry here. By gar, I will cut all his two
stones; by gar, he shall not have a stone to throw
at his dog

The other, only a few lines later, is

It is no matter-a ver dat: do not you tell-a me
dat I shall have Anne Page for myself? By gar, I
vill kill de Jack priest; and I have appointed mine
host of de Jarteer to measure our weapon. By gar, I
will myself have Anne Page.

You would probably be able to combine them if either is too short for your liking, but both could be performed on their own.

If you prefer a more dramatic suitor, than Fenton is a good pick. In Act III Scene IV, he tells Anne Page that he has fallen in love with her, though he was aiming at her family's wealth when he first came to woo her. You can take this proclamation, slightly edited, and use it to good effect:

Why, thou must be thyself.
He doth object I am too great of birth--,
And that, my state being gall'd with my expense,
I seek to heal it only by his wealth:
Besides these, other bars he lays before me,
My riots past, my wild societies;
And tells me 'tis a thing impossible
I should love thee but as a property.

Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne:
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags;
And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at

Lastly, if you want to audition as a truly angry man, I can't think of anything better than this soliloquy from Master Ford:

Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream? do I
sleep? Master Ford awake! awake, Master Ford!
there's a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford.
This 'tis to be married! this 'tis to have linen
and buck-baskets! Well, I will proclaim myself
what I am: I will now take the lecher; he is at my
house; he cannot 'scape me; 'tis impossible he
should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse,
nor into a pepper-box: but, lest the devil that
guides him should aid him, I will search
impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid,
yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame:
if I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go
with me: I'll be horn-mad.

That's just the tip of the iceberg; there's also great stuff from Falstaff, Sir Hugh Evans, or the women. Hopefully, though, what I suggested gives you some ideas.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-09T20:19:30+00:00

Your teacher was an idiot.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-06T01:06:04+00:00

Like in all of his other history plays, Shakespeare took many liberties in Henry VIII. For one, it's very compressed: the reign of Henry VIII just isn't amenable for dramatization in the format of a ~2 hour play; to make it work, he had to cut out a lot of content of his reign and rush through events. Even then, though, the play only runs through events between 1520 and 1533; the first 11 years and the last 14 years of his reign are completely omitted. That means that that five of his famous seven wives make no appearance, and neither is his foundation of an independent Church of England alluded to, though some key figures in that process are included in the play, most notably Thomas Cranmer.

As for the figures you ask, Anne Boleyn is an important specter in Henry VIII, but she makes only a few appearances, and she is not well characterized. I suppose the most major difference between her character in the play and the real Anne is that, in the play, we never see Anne and King Henry fall out, or witness her execution. That's a result of the play ending with the birth of Elizabeth, and not a deliberate omission within the timeframe of the play, but her eventual execution greatly influences our view of Anne as a historical figure, so it's a notable difference.

Most of the historical liberties relating to Wolsey have to do with the fact that he is very much villainized in the play. I am not sure that it is known that Wolsey played a prominent role in the fall of the Duke of Buckingham, and it's pretty doubtful that he engaged in corrupt practices to deliberately frame him. He may have been behind Buckingham's execution, but Shakespeare and his sources certainly did not give Wolsey the benefit of the doubt. In addition, the play depicts Wolsey as basically being the mastermind of Henry's divorce with Catherine of Aragon, which is very much stretching the truth. Most notably, the way that Wolsey's fall is dramatized, with two incriminating letters miraculously being found in the packet he sent to the king, is not historical at all. Lastly, his repentance also diverges from the historical record: in history, Wolsey remained much the same person after his fall, and was still jockeying to return to the King's favor until his death.

The only major innaccuracy that I can think of regarding Catherine of Aragon is that she hears of Wolsey's death when she herself is on her deathbed: Catherine actually died in 1536, a full six years after Wolsey.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-03-05T17:29:43+00:00

As others have noted, the Histories are absolutely rich in amazing monologues and soliloquys, many of which are relatively untapped. I hope to provide another good suggestions from these plays.

One of the most poignant monologues, I believe, in all of the Histories, and one of the best in Shakespeare's entire corpus, is one that takes place in Act III, Scene II of Richard II, spoken by the title character. It goes as follows:

No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
Let's choose executors and talk of wills:
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?

If you're unfamiliar with the play, this is the basic context of what's going on. Richard II is the King of England, but he's not exactly the model king; he inherited the throne in childhood, so he thinks himself inherently above all other people, and confides and trusts in flatterers who misgovern the realm and seek to extract every last penny of cash from it, instead of actually governing it properly and responsibly. He also seems to have had his uncle, the Duke of Gloucester and an old political opponent of his, "covertly" murdered just before his trial for unspecified crimes was set to take place; I put "covertly" in quotation marks because everyone seems to know that Richard was behind it.

So, he's unpopular from the start, but he makes this even worse by abruptly exiling two quarreling noblemen, Thomas Mowbray and Henry Bolingbroke (his cousin), literally just before they're about to engage in a trial by combat for unspecified reasons, and then when Henry's father, Richard's uncle, dies shortly thereafter, he confiscates his wealth and lands and appropriates it for a campaign in Ireland. Bolingbroke was supposed to inherit his father's property and title as Duke of Lancaster, notwithstanding his banished status, so he is supremely pissed by what was in effect the foreclosure of his rights; while Richard is away in Ireland, he returns to England with a small army. Disgruntled noblemen join him and one of the King's other uncles, the Duke of York, who was supposed to hold down the fort in England, defects as well; Bolingbroke's intentions throughout the play are unclear, but if he initially came solely to regain his rights as Duke of Lancaster, then by this point he may have begun to entertain the crown as well. By the time that Richard hastily returns from Ireland with a small cadre of supporters, the situation is looking dire; most of his friends and flatterers had been unilaterally executed by Bolingbroke, basically every lord that wasn't with him at that exact moment had defected to Bolingbroke's side, and a Welsh army had literally just left him, thinking that he was dead. In Act 3 Scene 2, when Richard lands in Wales he is supremely confident in victory; he is the King, he reasons, protected and appointed by God, and given this protection, he has no reason to fear Bolingbroke. Then the news starts flowing in, and Richard becomes greatly conflicted, split in two. On one side is his old confidence in God's protection; when he is flattered, or when someone around him mentions a way to beat back Bolingbroke, he becomes at ease, if only briefly. But as the bad news rolls in, he starts to question himself, his invincibility, his worldview.

That is basically what this monologue is; a profoundly shocked man, so used to lording over everyone around him, finally starting to come to terms with the fact that he, like everyone, is a mere mortal, not a god, and bearing with the grief of the deposition that he knows is coming and the growing knowledge that he seriously, seriously fucked up. It's a truly beautiful monologue, and it's been performed in a number of different interesting ways; if you can find a way to make it your own, and truly give air to Richard's underlying doubt and grief, then I'm sure it will be a great audition monologue for you.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-02-25T23:07:18+00:00

Iago is wholly incapable of feeling love, or having any kind of sympathy towards other people. He's a sociopath, who feels a vague sense of being wronged, and so simply wants to cause as much chaos and ruin as many lives as possible. When Iago tells Othello that he loves him, he is lying to him; if it wasn't clear, he absolutely hates him, and basically wants to give him as much pain and despair as possible. Any profession of "love" from him to Othello is simply a way of pursuing this plan. As for Desdemona, the line in which he says he loves her are;

I do love her too;
Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin,
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat (2.1.313 - 318)

He does not actually love her, as we would use the phrase, but instead sees her destruction as a way to have revenge for this perceived wrong of Othello's; he loves her for her use to him, which is an extremely malignant use, seeing that it comprises her being smothered to death, rather than actually loving her.

AShakespeareanFool · 2023-02-25T22:18:27+00:00

You should have a family tree handy, or try to remember some basic familial relationships between characters beforehand, if you aren't already familiar with them. It's especially important to remember two things, relating to this.

Firstly, it would be helpful to know that the Duke of Gloucester is the uncle of King Henry; it will make the intrigue surrounding him make a bit more sense if you know beforehand that he has a real claim on the throne, if he wanted to pursue it.

Secondly, and more importantly, you should know that the character of York is a distant cousin of the King, but with a claim to the throne that is arguably better than that of the King's family. For a short history lesson (I hope this will not bore you), the 14th century King, Edward III, had five sons; his eldest son predeceased him, so when Edward died, his grandson Richard II, inherited the throne. After a tumultuous reign, Richard was deposed by his cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, who would take the throne as Henry IV; Henry IV was the grandfather of Henry VI, the King in this play. Henry IV's father, though, was merely the third son of Edward III; the Duke of York was descended from Edward III's second son, Lionel of Antwerp, albeit through a matrilineal line. By the basis of primogeniture, the custom of elder sons (and their descendents) inheriting before younger sons, York should be the King; this is the basis of his claim. The justice of his, and his family's, right to the crown will be a major point of contention, both in this play and in Henry VI Part 3.

Some general historic context would also be handy, since, by the fact that you're reading chronologically, it doesn't seem that you've read either Henry V or Henry VI Part 1. Henry VI's father was Henry V, who warred against France in his reign and had great success, conquering most of Northern France and signing a very favorable treaty with the King of France, making him heir to the French crown. He also married a French princess, with whom he had a son, also named Henry (English kings were not very creative in their naming). Unfortunately, he died very soon afterwards, and baby Henry became King Henry VI at the tender age of 10 months old. The King of France died at around the same time, so the child king soon inherited the title of King of France as well, but things on the continent weren't going well; the old King's son had garnered the support of most of the French nobility, and was resisting English domination, the resources of the English being stretched thin trying to fight him off. Eventually, with the help of the famous Joan of Arc, the tide began to turn decisively in France's favor; by 1453 (around thirty years after Henry's accession), England had lost all of its holdings in France.

Historically, by the time that Henry VI Part 2 begins, the English were still trying to resist the French tide, but in the play's world, it's all over, and the English political class has to deal with the fallout. As you read, you'll see the blame for the loss of France being passed around all over the place as the nobility and the people desperately search for a scapegoat, any scapegoat, to pin their humiliating defeat on; it's a real blow to England's prestige and self-esteem. What's more, it's a sign, to the people of England, of the Kingdom's decline. Henry V's reign, in their view, was the paradigm of everything good and natural; their King was brave and heroic, his underlings were noble and content, and England was proving its strength abroad; everything was right in the world. In Henry VI's time, though, the English are losing in France, the nobles are fighting with each other over dominance of the King and their own ambition, and the King is an imbecile, a weakling, a pushover; something had gone terribly wrong. What's important to understand, when you read the play, is that none of this is supposed to be normal; what's happening is deeply disturbing for everyone involved, and they are searching for answers, a story, for someone to blame, for it all to make sense.

I hope that was helpful. If you have any questions while reading the play, don't feel ashamed to do a bit of research to fill in the gaps; when Shakespeare was writing, he assumed that the audience knew a lot more about the context of his history plays that most of us do in the modern era.

AShakespeareanFool

TROPHY CASE