Oh, you want to know more about the significance of Clarissa Dalloway’s “Fear no more the heat o’ the sun” murmur? Of course you must fling yourself into a Shakespearean rabbit hole and read the play it comes from, where you find that it’s a somber funeral song crooned as the two lost princes dig a grave for Imogen (unbeknownst to them, their sister; unbeknownst to them, actually still alive).
This is the a normal ragtag and slapdash Shakespearean tragedy, involving the usual doses of: miscommunication, an evil stepmother, cross-dressing, foolish leaders, poisons that send people into sleep not death, mysteriously kidnapped princes later discovered, hiding in chests to gather proof of infidelity. Some good insults, as always, like “whoreson jackanapes.”
In the aftermath of the kerfuffle over NYC’s Public Theater’s staging of Julius Caesar, I decided to spend the afternoon reading the play. The levels of ridiculousness increase exponentially as the alt-right fans flames of furor over this depiction of our Toxic Cheeto as Julius Caesar, who—spoiler alert!—gets murdered in the 3rd act. The play was written in 1599, and that it continues to be relevant and provide entertaining parallels to today’s political climate is just peachy.
Most of Bill’s research for the play came from the Sir Thomas North translation of Plutarch’s Life of Brutus, Life of Antonius, and Life of Caesar. circa first century AD. Bill added the unforgettable speech of Antony (“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears”) along with the gory detail of the conspirators washing their hands in Caesar’s blood, but otherwise stayed close to Plutarch’s version of events.
As Marcus Brutus broods on whether it’s justified to kill Caesar for his ambition to rule Rome:
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg
Which hatched would as his kind grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell.
Decius Brutus tells Cassius that he’ll be able to bend Caesar’s mood to fit their needs and lure him to the Senate despite bad omens. (The bit about flattery is perfect on this day that Toxic Cheeto made his cabinet go around the room praising him.)
Never fear that. If he be so resolved
I can o’ersway him. For he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betrayed with trees
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils and men with flatterers —
But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
He says he does, being then most flattered.
“Speak, strike, redress.” Indeed.