As I've expressed in a previous blog, Cymbeline's final Act fascinated me. I would desire to develop a thesis involving the role changes, revealings, and mythological elements.
Although, at this point I'm leaning towards writing about John Falstaff from Henry IV. His hypocritical moral standards and brash, witty nature makes him one funny farce of a fellow.
These ideas are rough, and with them I leave you a rough sonnet:
I've made a promise, one poem per blog
The page is blank, the words in the cavern
The whoreson Falstaff, that fat, aging hog
Sack and smog each behalf the Boar's tavern.
Hal holds the wealth, the inherent well-off
Shall he lend coin so the fat may maintain?
The drunk's princely niche pays his rent and trough
Thee horse spits and nays, so ends this quatrain.
We ask for no end, we desire for more
From this sacked Falstaff, we hire the boar
It's late and we tire, Jack's flat on the floor
Till the morrow we'll retire, the fat horse snores.
A hog and horse, quite a contradiction
We plead for more, in spite of the fiction.
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