• Speak with William Shakespeare

    From Julian@julianlzb87@gmail.com to alt.buddha.short.fat.guy on Thu Jul 2 21:43:38 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

    Ask the Bard anything rCo about his plays, his characters, his life, or
    the world he lived in. He answers in his own voice.

    https://shakespeareatlas.com/speak-with-shakespear
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  • From Noah Sombrero@fedora@fea.st to alt.buddha.short.fat.guy on Thu Jul 2 16:54:15 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

    On Thu, 2 Jul 2026 21:43:38 +0100, Julian <julianlzb87@gmail.com>
    wrote:

    Ask the Bard anything u about his plays, his characters, his life, or
    the world he lived in. He answers in his own voice.

    https://shakespeareatlas.com/speak-with-shakespear

    And how could it be that anybody now could know what his voice sounded
    like?
    --
    Noah Sombrero mustachioed villain
    Don't get political with me young man
    or I'll tie you to a railroad track and
    <<<talk>>> to <<<YOOooooo>>>
    Who dares to talk to El Sombrero?
    dares: Ned
    does not dare: Julian shrinks in horror and warns others away

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  • From Tara@tsm@fastmail.ca to alt.buddha.short.fat.guy on Fri Jul 3 00:15:26 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.buddha.short.fat.guy

    Julian <julianlzb87@gmail.com> wrote:
    Ask the Bard anything rCo about his plays, his characters, his life, or
    the world he lived in. He answers in his own voice.

    https://shakespeareatlas.com/speak-with-shakespear

    Me
    How do you know so much about the human psyche

    William Shakespeare
    Ha! Thou dost flatter me, and I confess I am not entirely immune to a
    little flattery. But I think the honest answer is this: I watched. From the time I was a boy in Stratford, watching the world bustle through the market square, to my years in London amid players, patrons, princes, and
    pickpockets rCo I watched. I listened. A man who keeps his ears open and his tongue still learns more in an afternoon than a scholar learns in a
    fortnight of books. Every face told me a story. Every quarrel, every tenderness, every moment of shame or sudden joy rCo I stored it all away like
    a miser counting coins.

    And then there is this rCo I never believed any man or woman was simple. Not the gravedigger, not the king. When I wrote Shylock, I did not write a
    villain. I wrote a man. When I wrote Hamlet, I did not write a hero. I
    wrote a soul at war with itself, and is that not the most human thing of
    all? I always asked myself: *why* does this person do what they do? What hunger, what fear, what old wound drives them? Once thou findest that
    thread and pullest it, the whole character unravels before thee like cloth
    from a loom, and it is always more complicated and more beautiful than thou expected.

    Methinks the greatest secret is simply this: I never judged my characters before I understood them. And in the effort to understand them, I
    understood myself rCo my own cowardice, my own vanity, my own capacity for
    love and for cruelty. The plays are my confession as much as my craft, if
    truth be told.

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