How many times have I read Antony and Cleopatra? A lot. a lot of times. And yet, every single time I come to this passage, it makes my stomach turn over:
Man, I love this play.
That time -- O times! --
I laughed him out of patience; and that night
I laughed him into patience; and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst I wore his sword Philippan. (2.5.18-23)
Man, I love this play.
Labels: early modern, theatre, transvestism
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