On we go now, into the final furlong. And here’s something lovely –
'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a
thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.
I especially like ‘such another herb’.
Another perfect little gem:
I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's
mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong
I think it is the use of muddied that makes that so perfect.
And there, I have finished. Well, it is a very silly play and ends abruptly and inexplicably as if Shakespeare suddenly grew bored and wanted to go down the pub. I can imagine him writing ‘Will this do?’ at the bottom of the final page. But even though the central characters are entirely unsatisfactory, the supporting cast are magnificent and they have all the best lines. There is a running joke about a drum which is tremendous and I adore the naughty Lords. There’s so much beauty in the language that I don’t mind that the plot makes no sense at all. Although I imagine that it might be one of the ones that is better read than seen. I'm awfully glad I have read it anyway, and it made me laugh quite a lot and raise my eyebrows and occasionally gasp. Plot: nul points. Everything else: ten out of ten.