#john falstaff

[pedroam-bang]

The King (2019)

[sherbertilluminated]

Read Knobloch's memoir Nase im Wind and to justify his desertion, he cites Falstaff's speech on honor from Henry IV.

I'm a little mad because. Falstaff is making a pun. "What is honor? Air." Which sounds like Ehre, the German word for honor. He's not only questioning the validity and objectivity of the artificial construct "honor," he's demonstrating it's mutability. Also maybe making a vapor/vanity reference to the Teacher book but who isn't

But Knobloch renders the speech in German and the pun doesn't carry through.

[unicornofthemidwest]

“Expert in a Dying Field” by The Beths is sooooooooo John Falstaff coded

[itcanbefilmed]

Chimes at Midnight (Orson Welles, 1962)

[ulrichgebert]

Als wir es dann schließlich zu einem Heimkehrfilm schafften, stellte sich Falstaff als hervorragend passend heraus. John Gielgud spielt mit, Shakespeare, und am Ende gibt es eine Krönung eines nicht so vielversprechenden Thronerben. Man kann sich an der Schönheit praktisch jedes einzelnen Bilds erfreuen, zur Erinnerung daran, daß Film auch ein feines Erzählmedium ist, und, wenngleich in diesem Fall etwas windig, dient es auch noch als Vorbereitung für’s Musiktheater.

[britneyshakespeare]

... you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound.

Falstaff, 2 Henry IV, II.iv.98

[dduane]

Ian McKellen’s Falstaff for his new run of Henry IV Parts 1 & 2 in Wimbledon, Manchester and the West End.

A divided country, leadership crumbling, corruption in the air. Welcome to England.

Hal wasn’t born to be king. Only now, it seems, he will be. His father longs for him to leave behind his friends in the taverns of Eastcheap, most notably the infamous John Falstaff. War is on the horizon. But will Hal ever come good?

[socialshakespeare]

Shakes-Tourney, Round 1

(summaries from shakespeare.org.uk; further summaries and propaganda encouraged)

Henry IV, Part II: King Henry IV fights off a growing rebellion while his son drinks and robs people; his son redeems himself.King Henry IV is dying; Falstaff is … Falstaff-ing; Prince John is unethical; and Hal becomes King.

The Winter's Tale: King Leontes becomes paranoid about his wife's fidelity; he imprisons her, kills their son, and banishes their infant daughter; years later, a statue comes to life.

[pedroam-bang]

The King (2019)

[ganymede-time]

Tell me why in the tags!!

(p.s. I really wanted to put Claudius, Don John, and Regan and Goneril on here, but no space. So if you vote for one of them put it in the tags and please know they were in my heart.)

[butchhamlet]

In many of his plays Shakespeare manifests keen interest in the psychological mechanism by which people project their faults onto others, and the way uniting against a despised “outsider” can help a community cohere more tightly. Thus in The Merchant of Venice, the Christians revile the Jew Shylock, whose bald pursuit of self-interest and refusal to mix financial arrangements with friendship lay bare unwelcome truths about their own handling of money. Likewise the prim Malvolio, in Twelfth Night, is treated as a madman for having dared to imagine for himself the social advancement through marriage which the glamorous twins Sebastian and Viola actually achieve. The residents of Windsor humiliate Falstaff, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, for thinking that he can trade sex for money, even while Ann’s parents plan to marry her off to one of her wealthy suitors rather than to the man she loves. Don John, the scheming bastard in Much Ado About Nothing, embodies the possibility of extramarital sexual activity, the prospect of which triggers so much of the suspicion and pain in the play. In all these cases the scapegoat is indeed guilty, sometimes murderously so. Yet the community’s investment in punishing him seems excessive, in a way that exposes its hypocrisy or blindness to its own motives.

-- Katharine Eisaman Maus, from the Norton Shakespeare’s Introduction to Shakespearean Comedy

[five-miles-over]

Can you write a one shot about Yandere Prince Hal where he became obsessed with a servant in his castle please?

Thanks for the request and for your patience, anon! Hope you like it :)

You Will Be Mine

Warnings: yandere behavior, forced kissing, obsession

Attempting to outdrink Falstaff was never a brilliant idea.

Like a fawn learning to walk for the the first time, Prince Hal staggered through the halls of the palace. The rays of the morning sunlight stung his eyes like pointed needles, and his head was filled with an all-too-familiar pain It felt as if someone had been striking the insides of his head, a bell ringer inside his skull. His arms and legs were as heavy as bread dough, and his throat was more parched than a barren field.

"Uhh…." Hal winced, trying to wish his hangover away. As soon as he stumbled upon a bedroom that looked like his own, the prince flopped onto the bed face-down. A female - presumably a servant of some kind - chirped immediately, asking if "His Majesty" would like some breakfast. 

How the hell was she so cheery at this hour?…Was it even time for breakfast? Hal wondered, having no knowledge of the exact moment he fell asleep at the tavern. His stomach churned. "No, just something edible," he muttered.

As soon as he could hear the sound of the servant's footsteps leaving his chamber, Hal groaned into the pillow while his head throbbed. This was not the first time the prince of England found himself in such a state after a wild night. After this ordeal ended, Hal would probably meet up with his friend John Oldcastle in the forest, and play a prank upon some unfortunate travelers that happened to be passing by. And after that, they might sweet-talk Falstaff into singing something pretty, and they might be able to enjoy some more of that special, far-too-expensive-for-you wine Falstaff kept bragging about…actually scratch that, wine was probably the last thing that Hal wanted to think about now, let alone drink. 

Holding a tray with slices of rye bread, aged cheese, a pitcher of mead with low alcohol content, and some honey reserved for the royal family, you made your way to the entrance of the prince's chamber. "Your Grace, I've brought you breakfast. May I come in?"

Who was this? Hal knew this voice was different than the voice of the maid who approached him earlier. But there was something inviting about the way you spoke, something…that made him wish for more. "Come in." 

The prince rolled onto his side, catching a glimpse of you as you made your way to a wooden table. All of a sudden, Hal no longer found himself concerned with his headache or his upset stomach. A new energy filled his once-fatigued limbs and his eyes were no longer afraid of the light, all because you entered his chambers. What sort of sorcery did you have that made him feel this way?

Hal's gaze followed you as you placed the tray on a table and fixed your hair. "Tell me your name," the prince commanded. 

You politely replied, telling him the name you were born with as well as the name that most people used to refer to you.

With a nod, Hal studied you. He couldn't quite explain why, but the more you spoke and the more he looked at you, the more…beautiful you seemed to him. Actually, beautiful was but a mere shallow word to describe the way that Hal saw you. Enchanting might be more suitable; your voice was luring him like a siren's call, and the nimble movement of your fingertips along your hair enticed him more than any half-naked tavern wench.

"Come closer. I feel fatigued to eat much," the prince lied. At this point, he was only looking for an excuse to bring you closer to him. 

You obediently sat on the edge of the bed with the tray in your lap, save for the pitcher of mead, which remained on the table. Carefully, you ripped a small piece of rye and the prince caught it in his mouth. 

Hal continued to enjoy your loveliness while he chewed each morsel, thoughts of kissing and touching you filling his mind. But this was far different than the lustful liquor-filled impulses Hal felt when he locked eyes with a wench or a prostitute in a bar. No, his feelings for you were more. He couldn't quite explain why he felt so much desire for you, and neither did he truly want to. All he knew was that you belonged by his side, that there was something that felt right about the rather-intimate position of sitting on his bed so close to him. 

After the prince cleaned the plate, one bite at a time, you bowed to the prince with a smile and promptly left…too soon for his liking, of course. Before he could protest or call your name, you had already disappeared from the room.

Naughty little fairy, Hal laughed under his breath. You did not even asked if you had his permission to be dismissed. Not that it mattered anyways…you already stayed long enough to leave a permanent imprint in his mind. And now, you left him with no choice but to find you, and to get you all for himself. 

Filled with a new energy and the hangover now long-forgotten, Hal roughly threw aside his bedsheets - not even caring that he was still wearing the clothes from last night - and strode into the hallway like a hunter entering a thicket. The servants present immediately halted their conversations and bowed as soon as they caught sight of him, but he barely regarded any of them. All Hal could think about was finding you. 

As he traversed throughout the palace, his pace grew quicker and his patience grew thinner, causing him to curl his fingers until his knuckles were white. He could not bring himself to stop moving until he knew for sure where you were in the palace. Nothing else mattered - not the flabbergasted looks from courtiers expecting him to be in some dirty tavern during this time of day, and not the the gossip among the old maids about which noble girl had been deflowered before her wedding date. All he needed was you, your dulcet voice, and your enchanting beauty. And when he found you, Hal would ensure that he would be the only one who could run his fingers through your soft hair, the only one who could wrap his arms around that lovely body of yours.

"Your majesty, some ale?" A male, young servant shakily approached him. Already aflame with his desire and exasperated at his inability to find you, Hal glared at the servant and threw the pint in the servant's face before continuing his hunt.

Hal finally found you out on one of the palace balconies, hanging a bedsheet to dry, surrounded by other laundresses. Your hair was tied back, save for a few strands outlining your delicate face. He wanted to approach you, dismiss the others, and passionately embrace you…but he did not. If he held you now and kissed your lips, he would not be able to stop. The desire to consume you would overwhelm him, like a drunkard with an unopened bottle of wine. So, he leaned against the entrance to the balcony, crossing his arms while eyeing you from a distance. 

He took in every detail of you, memorizing each and every curve, every detail upon your body that wasn't hidden by your loose dress. He watched you laugh without a care in the world while you went about your washing and cleaning, talking to the other laundresses. Yes, you looked to be enjoying yourself even while you toiled, but Hal knew that when he made you his, you would never have to lift a finger for anything. He would provide you anything and everything you needed, all for your unflinching loyalty and your undying love in return. For that, Hal would be ready to do anything, anything to keep you by his side.

Eventually, you and the other laundresses finished your work on the balcony and begin to chatter amongst each other, making plans for the night. Holding the empty baskets that once held dirty sheets, you all turned around and made your way to the doorway…only to silently curtsy as soon as the prince caught your eye.

"Ladies," Hal smirked at you all before courteously stepping out of the way so they could leave. But when you came forward, the prince blocked you with his arm.

You flinched, holding the large wicker basket. "Your Majesty…"

Hal commanded you to put the basket down, and clasped your chin so that your eyes were looking into his. He murmured your name like a prayer before asking, "What were you talking about with them?"

"We…we were talking about our lives…"

"And?"

"We had plans to go to the local bathhouse tonight…,Your Majesty"

"No," Hal sharply said. "I cannot let you go there."

Your eyes widened. "Why not, Your Majesty?"

"Because those places are filthy, and terribly unsavory things take place in those dreaded bathhouses." He stroked your cheek with his thumb. "I only want to protect you, my dearest."

"Your Majesty…"

"Hal," he corrected you. "Perhaps I can give you a bath, one far better and more deserving for a beautiful lady like you."

"Hal, you flatter me," you blushed, pretending to laugh at what seemed like banter

"The way you say my name is beyond perfect." The prince whispered in awe before crashing his lips onto yours. With one hand cupping your cheek, his other hand snaked around your hip and tightly held you. That was all it took for Hal to give into his desire for you, to venture past a point of no return. 

A whimper escaped your lips and your body tensed in his eery embrace. Yet somehow it only made the prince deepen the kiss until he could no longer breathe.

"The world is a scary and dangerous place," Hal gently said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "If you stay here, you'll be safe. In my arms." 

"I can't, I h-"

"I need you." The prince insisted, wrapping his large hand around your wrist with a deathly grip. "You don’t understand...I need to feel your small hand in my own, I need to hear your voice, touch your lips…you cannot turn away from me."

"I need to -" You tried to leave, but the prince maintains his firm hold upon you.

"We have a bond, my dearest. No one can ever imagine to know what our love is like.” Hal pulled you in for another, more passionate kiss. "And I will make you love me. I'm willing to break any rule for you, to burn the world for you, my everything," he whispered against your lips. "You will be mine."

[itcanbefilmed]

Chimes at Midnight (Orson Welles, 1962)

[watchingroger]