In the introduction to this book, I learned about Shakespeare’s play, “Love’s Labor’s Won,” which has been lost (ironically!).* Maybe I’d prefer that one. Because this show is about a king, Ferdinand, and his retinue, Berowne, Longaville, Dumaine — plus his page, Moth — who retire into the forest for contemplative celibacy, but are derailed by a bunch of cute French gals. Perhaps in “Love’s Labor’s Won” they actually DO meditate. I’d like to see Shakespeare depict that!
“Love’s Labor’s Lost” is not a comedy, because no one gets married in the end. It is, in a sense, a tragedy. Instead of a deus ex machina there’s an angelus de mortalitas ex machina (Angel of Death). The King of France, who we knew was feeling poorly, dies suddenly in Act V, abruptly bringing to a halt 78 pages of dick jokes. Now the Princess of France, plus her attending ladies, Rosalie, Catherine & Maria, must head back to the motherland:
Farewell, worthy Lord.
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue;
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtained.
(And guess what? The Princess has now become a Queen!)
It’s possible I read this book too slowly. The wit may be dependent on breakneck speed and, no doubt, timing. But basically, the situation is not funny — at least to me.
Shakespeare attempted at times to overcome the bourgeois dilemma of individuality. In his “summer plays,” — “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “As You like It,” “Henry IV Part 1” — he portrays lucky bands of communal pirates. But here he fails. I can’t distinguish any of these characters, and I don’t enjoy them. They are aristocratic snobs, all elegantly horny.
In the introduction, the editor (Peter Holland) disturbingly remarks that more is known about the Bard than will be remembered about ME:
Indeed, if we make due allowance for the bloating of modern, run-of-the-mill bureaucratic records, more information has survived over the past four hundred years about William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, than is likely to survive in the next four hundred years about any reader of these words.
*Isn’t it funny that “Love’s Labor’s Found” is lost and “Love’s Labor’s Lost” is found?
