22:38 Twelfth Night

Day 22 of 38:38
Twelfth Night

I just... I just can't get behind this play. I know it's beloved. I have very close friends that worship this play. But I just don't find it that delightful. Especially on the page. Watching drunkenness is more entertaining than reading it, so I felt like I was slogging through this play a lot. Compared to Shakespeare's other heroines I find Viola to be a bit of a wet mop. The exposition is rather unpolished. "Oh, I've heard of the Duke. Isn't he a bachelor?" "Yes, but he's in love with Olivia." "What's she like?" Ug.

But I do think the kinkyness of the ending is fun. The second Orsino finds out Viola is a girl, it's on. Ha. Also "Give me thy hand / And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds."

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Favorite Female Character:
None of the three really stand out to me.
Favorite Male Character:
Malvolio

Laugh out loud:
Feste Good madonna, why mournest thou?
Olivia Good fool, for my brother's death.
Feste I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
Olivia I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
Feste The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul, being in heaven.

"That's what she said!":
Olivia Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Malvolio To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee.

How insulting:
Olivia Ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preached...
Rudesby, be gone. (Just for you, Emily)

Shakey loves his meta:
Fabian If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Oh, misogyny:
Orsino For women are as roses whose fair flower,
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

Boys are silly:
Orsino For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than woman's are.

Favorite Moment/Line:
I like the song that ends the play.

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man’s estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gates,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
But that’s all one, our play is done,
And we’ll strive to please you every day.