Twelfth Night (by William Shakespeare; produced by Roger Stevens) has its immortal virtues—speeches filled with fragrance, bewitching songs. In Viola it has a charming heroine; in Malvolio, "sick of self-love," a monumental pompous ass. To him, as a huffing spoilsport, is addressed one of Shakespeare's crispest queries: "Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?" To him, by a frisking clown, is tossed some of Shakespeare's tersest wisdom: "There is no darkness but ignorance." And nowhere more than in Twelfth Night can a lovely moment suddenly...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
