W.S.: Well, naturally, they are not really my plays anymore....
With fame one must accept the plague of boors
And drink their dilute wine from ornate cups
Thinking but that their outward loveliness
Imbues with sweetness that which lies within
No word is sacred to these tinseled theives
The pawsied New World acarthesies
They tread on syllables of greatness
With mute incompetence and hollow bastardy
...however, some of the films are pretty good. I quite enjoyed Othello.
M.: Henry V was very well received by some of your biggest admirers, including the most authoritative Shakespearean scholars. Do you think it was a fair interpretation?
W.: Oh, yes,
Sweet Brannagh is a man of sound and fury,
The muse reeks from his breath whene'er he speaks
Kissed by Olympian lips was he at birth
....Pity about him and Emma, don't you think? They were great in Ado.
M.: Do you have any particular hobbies?
W.: The gentle game of chess is my passtime
In Boar's Head tavern I and Burbage sit
And oftentimes with pint and lamp do play;
Full many a balmy evening finds me thus.
M.: The game of thinkers and plotters. Anything else?
W.: Well, I have to confess to a certain weakness for poetry. Every now and then I sit down and compose something--just for myself, you know. I wouldn't dream of trying to publish, of course. One must do something, especially in Stratford-upon-Avon. Frightfully dull, sometimes. Nothing to do. I have no time to versify when I'm in Hollywood,though, everything is such a whirlwind in the "City of Angels,"
Among the darkening souls of jewelled sin
Wherin the virtuous monk will turn to vice
And simpletons from their mother's bosom creep
To taste of blasphemous fame.
....Tinseltown. Such a den of iniquity. You gotta love it, though, what?
