No, man, I mean I really reallyreally reeeeallly LOVE you, you know? Don’t you get it you shad shack of shit? Here, let me count the waysh. (Apparently Shakespeare quite often wrote whilst recovering from the quaffing of golden libations.)
Thus spake the Bard’s great contemporary, Ben Jonson: “I remember, the Players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing, (whatsoever he penn’d) hee never blotted out line. My answer hath beene, would he had blotted a thousand. Which the Players thought a malevolent speech.”
The loyal theatricals have turned. Dominic Dromgoole, artistic director of the Globe, has finally said the unsayable. Malevolently. There are “Monday morning” lines in Shakespeare’s masterpieces. They are the verse equivalent of the Friday afternoon lemons that used to roll off the production line at Dagenham.
This is a surprise? I thought everyone, pre-1825, had a flagon of mead in their grubby paws. Isn’t that how Man made it through the grosser parts of history?