Search results
; and to Julius Caesar in Philaster , The Maid's Tragedy, The Captain , The Chances (1616–25), Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt , The Little French Lawyer , The Double Marriage , The Lovers’ Progress (1619–24, rev. Massinger 1634), and possibly Henry VIII . 3 As significant as these echoes are, however, in this chapter I will focus exclusively on Fletcher's reuse of building materials from Shakespeare's Rome for the construction of his own. While this exploration will concentrate at greater length on Fletcher
Shakespearean body is mired in expressive complexity. The Shakespearean swoons of interest to me here are abyssal: they stage a fall into the dark depths of a body that is inaccessible to the modes of ‘reading’ attempted by the characters of the play-world. In this chapter, I focus on pivotal swoons in three plays: Much Ado About Nothing , Julius Caesar and Othello . 1 Falling, fainting and shaking are crucial to the action of these plays, and to the trajectories of their characters. These are also plays in which bodies
Introduction In Bellum Ciuile 5, Julius Caesar – who has already cut a swathe through Italy and conducted a destructive campaign in Spain – finally ends up battling with nature itself, when he attempts to sail from Brundisium to Dyrrachium. In the confident expectation that with Fortune on his side a storm will prove no obstacle to his desires, he embarks upon the sea in a tiny boat, amidst the protests of the owner, the lowly Amyclas ( BC .5.476–721). Before setting off, however, he attempts to impress and bribe the humble sailor: Expecta uotis
utopian socialism: that such a community will not succeed until it can call on a collective of Supermen. If Noyes had had to organise, not a few dozen Perfectionists, but the whole United States, America would have beaten him as completely as England beat Oliver Cromwell, France Napoleon, or Rome Julius Caesar. Cromwell learnt by bitter
This chapter positions Great War artist Paul Nash alongside the modernist writer Mary Butts, and traces these artists’ prolonged engagement with archaeological discourse, exploring how across several genres (life-writing, essays, visual art, and the novel) they turn to the prehistoric landscapes of Great Britain to mediate the catastrophic incursions of modernity on the natural world and the human psyche. Nash’s prose and images during wartime also conjure scenes of uncanny archaeological ruin reminiscent of images of Pompeii—an association which is corroborated by other first-hand witnesses of No Man’s Land. The middle section of this chapter delves into this comparison, demonstrating how writers including Louise Mack (an Australian journalist), H.D. [Hilda Doolittle], and various soldiers reshape Victorian narratives of the volcanic destruction and archaeological discovery of Pompeii and Herculaneum (by writers like Edward Bulwer Lytton) to historicise the war’s destruction. The chapter concludes with a look at contemporary excavations of First World War battlefields in France, revealing how contemporary writers and archaeologists are borrowing these same tropes as we uncover the First World warscape. Ultimately, these discussions reveal how archaeological imagery and narratives of ruin and rebirth helped writers and artists craft unofficial and dissonant historiographies of the First World War.
mound of rank sweat and bad breath in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar : the rabblement hooted and clapped their chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked Caesar – for he swooned and fell down at it. And for mine own part, I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. 2
deployment of Henry Savile's essay ‘The End of Nero and the Beginning of Galba’ as a source. I have also brought attention to the implications of his depiction of Roman women as exceptionally passive in the play, argued for a negative portrayal of stoicism, and illuminated the play's relationship with Shakespeare's Julius Caesar , especially as regards the construction of the character of Maximus as oddly reminiscent of the example of Brutus. As for Bonduca , I have brought new elements to the discussion of the play's sceptical attitude to colonial
arouse at a gathering of early modernists would be with Shakespeare and his Titus Andronicus (1584–94), Julius Caesar (1599), Antony and Cleopatra (1606–07), Coriolanus (1607–09), and Cymbeline (1609–11). Then, someone would be likely to think of Jonson and his Poetaster, or His Arraignment (1601), Sejanus His Fall (1603), and Catiline His Conspiracy (1611). Very few people, if any, would think of Fletcher. As it happens, his name has very infrequently appeared in print in connection with said phrase. 2
money in thy purse’ as the more apposite. But the Shakespeare play which most proliferates intertextually in Charlie is Julius Caesar. Charlie himself, in recalling his meeting with Margaret Thatcher, invokes the figure of Caesar and his ‘great campaigns’ (p. 43) to lament the fact that ‘I would never be tested on a great stage’. The references to the play itself are most prominent when he and his backers are considering the heave against Jack Lynch. To P.J. Mara’s query as to whether it is too soon, Haughey responds: ‘There is a tide [in the affairs of men,] which
plays (Lavinia in Titus Andronicus ; Portia and Calpurnia in Julius Caesar ; Octavia in Antony and Cleopatra ; Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria in Coriolanus ). Yet Shakespeare's Roman women are not only more evenly distributed across the different tragedies; they also generally seem to have more relevance – at least plot-wise – in the plays in which they appear than their Fletcherian counterparts: four of these have (very) minor roles (Ardelia, Phorba, Claudia, and Marcellina in Valentinian ); two may be described as supporting characters with a limited influence