Pavlos
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Notes from Underground is synonymous with Torchwood... and you know what that means from the prehistoric Skype.
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You may want to take a look at Venus and Adonis (an awesome poem), Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth, Henry V, The Merry Wives of Windsor. Though the last one might be far too curiously English: lots of cross-dressing jokes and pushy wives.
Good editions are always found in the Arden 3rd edition, New Cambridge, and Oxford Shakespeare. Check the publication dates and go for the most recent one out of the three publishers. Shakespeare criticism moves so quickly that it's fairly important to be abreast of the current thought.
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If you're interested in the other playwrights of the period then you'd want to look at the Oxford English Plays series. It's surely one of the finest in world literature; I don't really know why there's such a concentration of brilliance in the late 16th early 17th century, there just is. I suppose that I should know but there's not enough time to learn everything, now, is there?
Worth a look at are Marlowe (Edward II is terrific), Middleton, and Jonson from the same period. I'm actually of the opinion that Shakespeare is overrated. That's not to say the majority of his works aren't brilliant works of literature (the Hamlet-Macbeth-King Lear-Othello combo is impossible to beat) but rather than I dislike the culture of bardolatry.
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Gladstone and Disraeli: Clash of the Titans, BBC 4. Not watched it myself but being the Disraeli fan you are, I thought you might appreciate the link.
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Things are British Romantic Age 1776-1832, Spam. How are you? Philosophising? Living? Loving? Searching? Are you better, wiser, stronger for it?
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Watched There Will Be Blood, yet? Oh, and since our recent exchanges seem to demand it, a quotation:
O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord,
O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard's body have interred anew;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears
Than from it issued forced drops of blood:
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon. My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee:
The day, my friends and all things stay for me.
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Spam!
Aristotle is the most decidedly dull man ever to grace the planet. Discuss.
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Just thought I'd stop by to annoy you:
"Wherefore art thou."
"Wherefore" means "why"; the other guy's sentence was right
[/English nerd] -
Oh I'd rather be at Oxford than St. John's; who are Hatfield College? Why should we point the cannon northwards against the Scot? Norway begs command of Denmark's oilerous gold.
The portents are clear.
*Ravel Puzzlewell theme plays*
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To that your question I pose another:
Does this thrice blasted, thrice twisted tail
Exist at Hecate's whim or will? Ought or naught?
Feminine the line creeps; so must I too.
Cats may mew but the dog will have his due.
*Thunder and lightning*
[/English nerd]