16. Henry IV part 2
Nothing to see here, folks.
Half the play is about preparing for a fight which never happens.
The rest is Falstaff preparing to be bigged up by the new King. This also never happens.
The big F does get a shag with the wonderfully named Doll Tearsheet tho.
Talking of names, there are some corkers:
Ancient Pistol
Shallow
Silence (can’t stop singing)
Fang
Snare
Mouldy
Shadow
Wart
Bullcalf
and Feeble.
And if anyone can tell me where on the body God’s liggens are, I’ll be eternally grateful. (As with many other words in this play, you can Google the living shit out of it and be none the wiser).
1/10 because it has a couple of really spiffing lines in it, including, ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.’
17. Henry V
Will had now got to the point of being so proficient with language that he decided to branch out a bit, and have a go at doing accents. With varied success, tbh.
There are plenty of French in the cast of characters, and there’s also a Welshman. However, I spent most of the play wondering why it was full of Germans.
Here’s what I mean: -
Alice: ‘de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits - dat is de princess.’ Alice is French.
Katherine: ‘I cannot tell vat is dat.’ (Also French)
Fluellen (who I only knew was Welsh when he started waving a leek about): Got is goot.
Then there’s a whole section in the middle that is just in French (I don’t speak French, so that was fun). Turns out to be mostly naming body parts, so really not important.
The play revolves around the fact that Henry’s great-grandmother was the daughter of the French king. And although succession followed a strictly male line, Henry reckoned bugger that, he's still the true ruler. France, on the other hand, already had a king that it was perfectly happy with. And no one had invented football yet, so off to war they went.
Will rather glosses over the fact that, once he gets going, Henry becomes a complete, off-with-their-heads, genocidal maniac, especially as regards the prisoners of war.
Instead he gives him some of the best and most rousing let’s-go-and-be-heroes speeches ever written.
From the one ending in the battle cry: -
‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’
to the famous: -
‘...We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother...
...And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurst they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.’
But my favourite lines go to some of the lesser characters, for instance: -
Nym: ‘Will you shog off?’ (Means exactly what you think it means.)
Duke of Bourbon: ‘Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!’
And this from Pistol, which I think should be an A level essay question: ‘Art thou a gentlemen? what is thy name? discuss.’
6/10
18. Much Ado About Nothing
Ooh, this is glorious. Sort of Shakespearean Pride and Prejudice, but with more fun and fewer bonnets.
You have Beatrice and Benedick who are both so sharp they could cut themselves. And they are nuts about each other - any fool can see that.
They don’t need the help of their friends ‘to fall in love’: they just need help to get out of their own way without losing too much face.
At one point Beatrice alludes to them having a history, but he appears to have acted like a jerk, and she ain’t about to go down that road twice.
So now they both have to pretend to a mutual loathing, despite the fact that they both think and talk about each other ALL THE TIME.
Even when the Prince is proposing to Beatrice (THE ACTUAL PRINCE!), she is so obsessed with Ben-a-dick that she barely registers it.
There’s lots of other stuff going on in the play, but none of the scenes are as much fun as when these two are sparring.
By the end of the play I just wanted to be Beatrice, and able to say, ‘there was a star danced, and under that was I born.’
And to have a humbled and awestruck Benedick tell me, ‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is that not strange?’
9/10 because lovely.
19. The Merry Wives of Windsor
It’s Falstaff, part III, Die Hard with a vengeance.
Poor Falstaff - painted as the life and soul of the party in Henry IV part 1, and a waste of space in part 2, he is now having a very bad day at the office.
Feeling a bit brassic he decides that, despite being old, and fat, and a drunk, his new money-making career should be ... wait for it ... gigolo. Obviously.
He picks a couple of wealthy Windsor wives, sends them a letter each saying he fancies them, and then expects everything to just drop in his lap, literally.
Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t work.
As regards insults, there’s a fair bit of knogging (no idea), sometimes to a person’s urinals (which does sound painful, tbf). And one guy is declared a ‘vlouting stog’ and told he’ll have his noddles smited, which can’t be nice.
Falstaff himself gets called ‘old, cold, wither’d, and of intolerable entrails’ (must remember that one). But he does give the best directions for how to exit a room with style: - ‘Away, I say; time wears: hold up your head, and mince.’
Weirdly, for Tolkien fans, Bilbo and middle-earth are also mentioned.
4/10
20. Julius Caesar
Dear Mr Soothsayer,
I hope this letter finds you safe and well.
However, despite your warning, I am neither of those things. Because - and I don't wish to criticise - YOU HAD ONE JOB!
ONE.
JOB.
WTAF Mr Soothsayer ?!? Of all the most unutterably pointless things ever said, 'Beware the Ides of March,' has got to be in the top five.
That's like saying 'Watch out for Wednesday'. How? How exactly was I supposed to do that: the Ides were going to happen whether I liked it or not?
Were you, perhaps, suggesting that I go out because a comet was about to flatten my house, or - and this is pertinent, I feel - stay home to avoid some particularly miffed mates? Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, but a little clarity would have gone a long way.
May I venture to suggest that, 'Beware the Senate,' would have been more effective in preventing my current situation? Or, better still, 'Stay well clear of back-stabbing Cassius and Mr Smiley-pants Brutus'.
I'd like to point out that twenty-three is a massive number, Mr Soothsayer. That's how many times I was knifed by those treacherous, slime-dwelling, bottom-feeding bastards. For someone who does 'visions' for a living, didn't you notice the guys with the pointy sticks? Or think it worthwhile to mention them?
May I suggest that, given the evidence of your obvious shortcomings in your chosen profession, you retire immediately and endeavour to live a long and useful life?
As long as you possibly can, would be my advice.
Because I shall be waiting, Mr Soothsayer, oh yes.
With kind regards,
Julius Caesar
Emperor of Rome (retired)
5/10
Nothing to see here, folks.
Half the play is about preparing for a fight which never happens.
The rest is Falstaff preparing to be bigged up by the new King. This also never happens.
The big F does get a shag with the wonderfully named Doll Tearsheet tho.
Talking of names, there are some corkers:
Ancient Pistol
Shallow
Silence (can’t stop singing)
Fang
Snare
Mouldy
Shadow
Wart
Bullcalf
and Feeble.
And if anyone can tell me where on the body God’s liggens are, I’ll be eternally grateful. (As with many other words in this play, you can Google the living shit out of it and be none the wiser).
1/10 because it has a couple of really spiffing lines in it, including, ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.’
17. Henry V
Will had now got to the point of being so proficient with language that he decided to branch out a bit, and have a go at doing accents. With varied success, tbh.
There are plenty of French in the cast of characters, and there’s also a Welshman. However, I spent most of the play wondering why it was full of Germans.
Here’s what I mean: -
Alice: ‘de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits - dat is de princess.’ Alice is French.
Katherine: ‘I cannot tell vat is dat.’ (Also French)
Fluellen (who I only knew was Welsh when he started waving a leek about): Got is goot.
Then there’s a whole section in the middle that is just in French (I don’t speak French, so that was fun). Turns out to be mostly naming body parts, so really not important.
The play revolves around the fact that Henry’s great-grandmother was the daughter of the French king. And although succession followed a strictly male line, Henry reckoned bugger that, he's still the true ruler. France, on the other hand, already had a king that it was perfectly happy with. And no one had invented football yet, so off to war they went.
Will rather glosses over the fact that, once he gets going, Henry becomes a complete, off-with-their-heads, genocidal maniac, especially as regards the prisoners of war.
Instead he gives him some of the best and most rousing let’s-go-and-be-heroes speeches ever written.
From the one ending in the battle cry: -
‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’
to the famous: -
‘...We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother...
...And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurst they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.’
But my favourite lines go to some of the lesser characters, for instance: -
Nym: ‘Will you shog off?’ (Means exactly what you think it means.)
Duke of Bourbon: ‘Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!’
And this from Pistol, which I think should be an A level essay question: ‘Art thou a gentlemen? what is thy name? discuss.’
6/10
18. Much Ado About Nothing
Ooh, this is glorious. Sort of Shakespearean Pride and Prejudice, but with more fun and fewer bonnets.
You have Beatrice and Benedick who are both so sharp they could cut themselves. And they are nuts about each other - any fool can see that.
They don’t need the help of their friends ‘to fall in love’: they just need help to get out of their own way without losing too much face.
At one point Beatrice alludes to them having a history, but he appears to have acted like a jerk, and she ain’t about to go down that road twice.
So now they both have to pretend to a mutual loathing, despite the fact that they both think and talk about each other ALL THE TIME.
Even when the Prince is proposing to Beatrice (THE ACTUAL PRINCE!), she is so obsessed with Ben-a-dick that she barely registers it.
There’s lots of other stuff going on in the play, but none of the scenes are as much fun as when these two are sparring.
By the end of the play I just wanted to be Beatrice, and able to say, ‘there was a star danced, and under that was I born.’
And to have a humbled and awestruck Benedick tell me, ‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is that not strange?’
9/10 because lovely.
19. The Merry Wives of Windsor
It’s Falstaff, part III, Die Hard with a vengeance.
Poor Falstaff - painted as the life and soul of the party in Henry IV part 1, and a waste of space in part 2, he is now having a very bad day at the office.
Feeling a bit brassic he decides that, despite being old, and fat, and a drunk, his new money-making career should be ... wait for it ... gigolo. Obviously.
He picks a couple of wealthy Windsor wives, sends them a letter each saying he fancies them, and then expects everything to just drop in his lap, literally.
Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t work.
As regards insults, there’s a fair bit of knogging (no idea), sometimes to a person’s urinals (which does sound painful, tbf). And one guy is declared a ‘vlouting stog’ and told he’ll have his noddles smited, which can’t be nice.
Falstaff himself gets called ‘old, cold, wither’d, and of intolerable entrails’ (must remember that one). But he does give the best directions for how to exit a room with style: - ‘Away, I say; time wears: hold up your head, and mince.’
Weirdly, for Tolkien fans, Bilbo and middle-earth are also mentioned.
4/10
20. Julius Caesar
Dear Mr Soothsayer,
I hope this letter finds you safe and well.
However, despite your warning, I am neither of those things. Because - and I don't wish to criticise - YOU HAD ONE JOB!
ONE.
JOB.
WTAF Mr Soothsayer ?!? Of all the most unutterably pointless things ever said, 'Beware the Ides of March,' has got to be in the top five.
That's like saying 'Watch out for Wednesday'. How? How exactly was I supposed to do that: the Ides were going to happen whether I liked it or not?
Were you, perhaps, suggesting that I go out because a comet was about to flatten my house, or - and this is pertinent, I feel - stay home to avoid some particularly miffed mates? Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, but a little clarity would have gone a long way.
May I venture to suggest that, 'Beware the Senate,' would have been more effective in preventing my current situation? Or, better still, 'Stay well clear of back-stabbing Cassius and Mr Smiley-pants Brutus'.
I'd like to point out that twenty-three is a massive number, Mr Soothsayer. That's how many times I was knifed by those treacherous, slime-dwelling, bottom-feeding bastards. For someone who does 'visions' for a living, didn't you notice the guys with the pointy sticks? Or think it worthwhile to mention them?
May I suggest that, given the evidence of your obvious shortcomings in your chosen profession, you retire immediately and endeavour to live a long and useful life?
As long as you possibly can, would be my advice.
Because I shall be waiting, Mr Soothsayer, oh yes.
With kind regards,
Julius Caesar
Emperor of Rome (retired)
5/10
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