Titus evaluation action
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Bo 2022-03-27 09:01:21
The cruelty of Shakespeare's classic tragedy recreated by postmodern techniques
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Ken 2022-03-18 09:01:10
Poor exposure to postmodern classical theatre. Boys playing games of war blood, Terracotta Warriors rides on motorcycles, Roman heirs campaign parade, King's wedding banquet in nightclubs, Tongue-cutting, hands-and-twigs spitting blood, Hands in exchange for the lives of two sons, the sun will be dimmed by mosquitoes You, the evil incarnation of unbelieving in God, the Moorish black people, the three-person murder and rape of the god of revenge, the meat pie, the twisting of the daughter's neck according to the allusions, the three-in-a-row killing with a sharp knife, a candlestick and a long spoon.
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Demetrius: [in the woods with the maimed and mutilated Lavinia] So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravished thee?
Chiron: Write down thy mind. Bewary thy meaning so, and if they stumps will let thee play thy scribe.
Demetrius: See how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.
Chiron: Go home. Call for sweet water. Wash thy hands.
Demetrius: She hath no tongue to call nor hands to wash; and so let's leave her with her silent walks.
Chiron: And 'twere my cause, I should go hang myself.
Demetrius: If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
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Chiron: Demetrius! Here's the son of Lucius! He hath some message to deliver us.
Aaron: Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.
Young Lucius: My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honors from Andronicus.
Demetrius: Gramercy, lovely Lucius. What's the news?
Young Lucius: My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me the goodliest weapons of his armory to gratify your honorable youth... the hope of Rome, for so he bid me say,and so I do.
[aside]
Young Lucius: And so I leave you both. Like bloody villains.
[young Lusius leaves]
Demetrius: What's here, a scroll written round about.
[reads]
Demetrius: "Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri iaculis, nec arce."
Chiron: Oh, 'tis a verse in Horace. I know it well. " He who is pure of life and free of sin needs no bow and arrow of the Moor."
Aaron: Ay, just. A verse in Horace. Right, you have it.
[aside]
Aaron: Now, what a thing it is to be an ass. Here's no sound jest. The old man hath found their guilt and sends them weapons wrapped about with lines that wound beyond their feeling, to the quick. But were our witty empress well afoot, she would applaud Andronicus' conceit, but... let her rest in her unrest awhile.