Sweet William

Little Angel

The Financial Times, 22^nd August 2007

The Little Angel is a puppet theatre. It’s normal, then, for every onstage performer to have an invisible companion guiding their moves. And in a sense, ‘Sweet William’ is no exception. For, although this is a solo piece performed by a live actor, you could say there are always two people in this show: Michael Pennington, the actor, and William Shakespeare, a tantalising unseen presence. For this is not simply a show about Shakespeare, it is a personal response from a fine actor who fell for Shakespeare at the age of 11 and has been in thrall ever since.

The piece’s appeal lies partly in its simplicity. Pennington stands, or occasionally sits, on an unadorned stage and talks to us. On one level he offers a quick jog through Shakespeare’s life; on another he gives the narrative of his relationship with the playwright’s life. The show is laced with anecdotes, historical insights and textual analysis, all delivered with easy charm.

Pennington offers a vivid picture of the London that Shakespeare first encountered, describing London Bridge, with its public convenience perched perilously over the River Thames. He suggests that the writer’s missing years (between childhood in Stratford and arrival in London) could have been spent as a travelling player. He talks about Shakespeare’s innovative use of the soliloquy, and sets it in the context of the size of the Elizabethan stage. He discusses the emotional import of Shakespeare’s choice to lurch from “high poetry to intimate human detail” and the trust this places in the actor to take that moment forward.

But what makes the show is that Pennington is able to show us glimpses of Shakespeare’s genius in action. He slips suddenly into one character or another, paying particular attention to the very young, the very old and those on the sidelines. And he demonstrates Shakespeare’s ability to catch you unawares with a heartfelt performance of Francis Flute’s lament for Pyramus (from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’) that reveals how amusing this apparently clumsy speech can be.

The Guardian, 22^nd August 2007, Michael Billington

Michael Pennington is what Richard II calls a “well-graced actor”. But in this brilliant one-man show Pennington combines his performance skills with textual scholarship and practical knowledge to give us as well-rounded a portrait of Shakespeare and his art as you could hope for in two hours.

In offering is a sketch of Shakespeare’s life, Pennington provides an abundance of insight. He suggests that, in the famous “missing years” between his departure from Stratford and arrival in London, Shakespeare was a touring actor and the kind of “company member who was always complaining about the script”. But he goes on to claim that Shakespeare was, in the broadest sense, a political writer. “If you scratch a great hero, you find a complete ass,” says Pennington of the tragic protagonists; and he sees, in the plays written in the Jacobean era, a sharp, incisive criticism of privilege and the corruption, treachery and dissimulation within the court.

But what makes Pennington different from most academics is that he can illustrate his ideas through performance. He demonstrates Shakespeare’s ability “to lurch from high poetry to intimate human detail” with a soliloquy from Henry VI. He makes a telling point about the multi-ethnic nature of Shakespeare’s London with a riff from The Comedy of Errors about an obese kitchenmaid. And he proves Shakespeare’s gift for investing minor figures with super-abundant life by invoking “the briefly great figure of Barnadine” in Measure for Measure who obstinately refuses to be hanged. He doesn’t just tell us about Shakespeare: he also vividly shows.

You could argue that he doesn’t address, as Bond’s Bingo famously does, Shakespeare’s transition into questionable Stratford landowner. But what you get is a distillation of an actor’s experience and the thrill of vivacious performance. Whether as the boy Mamillius in The Winter’s Tale, Mistress Quickly or the senile Shallow and Silence in Henry IV, Pennington embraces the infinite variety found in Shakespeare's world.

Times Online, 23^rd August 2007, Benedict Nightlingale

From the age of 11, when his parents dragged him to the Old Vic to see Paul Rogers’s Macbeth emerge “from one of the doorways of hell”, Michael Pennington has been Bard-mad. Not only has he spent some 20,000 hours onstage in Shakespeare’s plays. He has now concocted a one-man show that’s part biography, part analysis, part performance, and a large-spirited salute to this “unprecedented, ungovernable talent”.

Shakespeare is a magic mirror in whose myriad panes we can each see what most matters to us. For Pennington, he’s the poet who juxtaposed the magnificent and the startlingly ordinary, the dramatist with the fondness for transgressors, the tragedian whose great men were foolish and flawed, the Warwickshire lad who always retained his loyalty to his country, the lover who eventually lost his belief in love, the family man who ended up writing painfully yet wishfully about the disintegration and reunion of families.

But Pennington co-founded the now-lapsed English Shakespeare Company, whose prime aim was to show how topical and challenging the plays remained. So his Bard is, above all, the dramatist who liked to subvert conventional expectations, the Establishment figure with the anti-Establishment instincts, the man who was in effect one of James I’s couriers yet wrote surreptitious attacks on this spoilt king and his entourage. But here I think he exaggerates, giving Timon’s hatreds and Lear’s denunciations of injustice an immediacy I’m not sure they had.

Yet this only adds to the show’s first-hand feel. And since Pennington is also a major actor, he persistently bolsters his arguments by delivering brief excerpts from the plays, and mostly unusual ones: Hamlet and Lear, yes, but also the shepherd Corin, the wild drunkard Barnadine, flute-playing Thisbe in The Dream, and, from The Winter’s Tale, the doomed Mamillius, whose childish confusions will now mean more when I encounter them next.

I’m grateful for that, but also for the mix of grace and incisiveness. It’s as if Chekhov, whom this warm, mellow actor has celebrated in another solo show, was saluting Shakespeare. No wonder Sweet William is such a delight.

The Independent, 29^th August 2007, Paul Taylor

Michael Pennington has been bonkers about the Bard from the age of 11 when his parents dragged him to the Old Vic and he was mesmerised by Macbeth. Since then he has, by his own reckoning, spent 20,000 hours on stage performing Shakespeare, to say nothing of the hours devoted to reading and rehearsing the works. This accumulated experience is distilled now in Sweet William, a wonderfully perceptive one-man show that interweaves biography, autobiography, performance, cultural commentary and textual analysis.

The two hours teem with the insights of a highly intelligent practical man of the theatre on a practical man of the theatre who was a genius. For example, picking up clues from one of the Sonnets and with the insider-knowledge of how performers write home, Pennington develops the theory that in his so-called “lost years” between leaving Stratford and surfacing in London, Shakespeare was a touring actor and the sort of company member who was always complaining about the script. The difference in the Bard’s case is that his dreams of improving on the stuff he had to spout as a player were not self-deceiving.

Crucial to the new voice that Shakespeare brought to the stage, argues Pennington, was the ability to “lurch” between high-flown poetry and intimate human detail – “the simple, banal or off-the-point”. Taking a scene in the third part of Henry VI, he suggests that Christopher Marlowe could have written York’s ringing line about Queen Margaret “O, tiger’s heart wrapt in a woman’s hide”, but the Queen’s reference to York’s son Richard as “Dicky, your boy, that with his grumbling voice/Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies” adds a note of (here insolent) domestic intimacy to her jeering that is characteristically Shakespeare.

Pennington notes that contemporary writers, such as Robert Greene, were piqued that Shakespeare collapsed the class distinction between vulgar actor and genteel author. Likewise, professional commentators on Shakespeare may now feel a twinge of envy that Pennington has the edge on them by being able to illustrate his perceptions with such deft, lucid performances. You emerge from this graceful show with your sense of Shakespeare refreshed and augmented.

The Sunday Times, 2^nd September 2007, John Peter

Michael Pennington is the thinking man’s actor: he is steeped in Shakespearean knowledge, and he shares it with you with the modest generosity of a drinking partner. This is a one-man show about Shakespeare: a lecture, an entertainment, a brief biography, a homage to the greatest dramatist who ever lived. Pennington has played most of the big parts, and he knows what makes them tick, what makes them love, kill, laugh or despair. He talks about Mamillius, the doomed little son of Leontes in The Winter’s Tale, and you are mesmerised by the way he gets into the child’s mind.

His remark that Shakespeare’s language created a new acting style deserves a book. The way he delivers a sonnet reveals how the poetry of a playwright, such as Harold Pinter’s recent poems, works as a piece of theatre. I was quite amused by his remark that Shakespeare was not an intellectual. Who but an intellectual could have written Measure for Measure or The Tempest? Pennington probably knows that the word might frighten the horses. Ah, well. This show is a gem. If I weren’t a Shakespeare junkie, Pennington would have turned me into one.

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Arcola Theatre

Daily Mail, 23^rd November 2007, Quentin Letts

Michael Pennington, one of our great old thesps, first came across Shakespeare aged 11 when he was dragged to see Macbeth at London’s Old Vic. It hit him, he says, like a hammer.

Young Michael rushed home, pulled the text of Macbeth off the shelves and started to read it aloud. Before that day young Pennington had been gripped by football. Afterwards, however, he barely talked again about Tottenham Hotspur.

He has been at it pretty much ever since and calculates that he has spent 20,000 hours on stage playing Shakespeare. He has now assembled a one-man show about the Bard which skilfully mixes his life story with brief clips from some of his plays.

It is an approachable work of literary analysis in which Mr Pennington wears his deep knowledge with light charm.

This production is not a play in any sense. It’s ‘plot’ is nothing more than an examination of the way Shakespeare started as a youthful romantic and gradually became more political, ending his creative life as a sardonic, contemplative playwright.

He was ‘sweet’ William because he was so honey-tongued, but also because babies at that time often had a sweet substance placed on their tongues after birth.

It all makes for an agreeably old-fashioned, bookish sort of evening which could easily qualify for translation to BBC radio or even upmarket television.

To find Mr Pennington performing in plain black clothes, with nothing more than a wooden chair for props on a bare stage at the Arcola Theatre in North London, is somehow a very English experience.

In the U.S., an actor of his experience would scarce consider playing to the audience of about 25 who were at the Arcola on Tuesday night.

On the Continent, the capital’s intellectuals would descend with weighty tread. But here in England it’s a slightly thread-bare crowd of middle-class bumblers. They listened closely and appreciatively.

Part of the pleasure of the show is Mr Pennington’s rich gravy of a voice. It is an instrument you could never tire of hearing, being classical yet not grand, resonant but not dissolute or artsy.

He runs through some of the ‘throng’ of voices produced by Shakespeare, from Cleopatra to the drunken prisoner Barnadine in Measure for Measure (so furious to be disturbed from his sleep and told it is time for his execution). En route we hear how the talented young Shakespeare infuriated his rival Robert Greene, who attacked him as a “an upstart crow”.

Mr Pennington exercises a theory he has that Shakespeare was a libidinous travelling actor in his youth.

There is also some persuasive stuff about his later career as a theatre impresario in the London of James I, the monarch whose corrupt court was skewered in Timon of Athens. Mr Pennington hints that Shakespeare was a lefty. Certainly possible.

Theatre buffs, A-level English pupils, history enthusiasts, admirers of fine verse speaking: all will find plenty to admire in this assured tour of the Shakespearean estate by one of its most besotted addicts. Michael Pennington has done ‘sweet William’ – and himself – proud.

The Telegraph, 22^nd November 2007, Charles Spencer

Yes, I know, the postcode is deepest Dalston, where most folk would think twice about braving the streets after dark. But it’s worth the journey for this delightful and illuminating show about our national poet performed by one of our finest thesps.

Michael Pennington describes being hit by Shakespeare as if by a hammer blow at the age of 11, when his parents took him to see Macbeth at the Old Vic. He can still recall the production in vivid detail half a century later, and it sparked a love of Shakespeare, his characters and his language that persists to this day.

Pennington reckons he has spent 20,000 hours of his life playing Shakespeare on stage, not to count those spent rehearsing, thinking, reading and writing about him. And he speaks the verse beautifully, in tones that are sonorous and expressive without becoming over-ripe, and with an understanding that illuminates even the knottiest passages.

The show offers an exceptionally knowledgeable guided tour around the man and his work, with Pennington reciting favourite passages (many well off the beaten track), delivering the few certain facts about Shakespeare’s life, and embarking on speculations of his own about such vexed questions as the so called ‘missing years’ between Shakespeare leaving Stratford and his arrival in London.

Pennington thinks he was with a touring company of actors, which sounds sensible, though I’m convinced from the evidence of the plays that he also spent some of his time at sea.

Pennington is particularly good on Shakespeare’s language, savouring its richness and variety, but also showing how it works.

He compares Marlowe’s gift for the rhetorical “mighty line” with Shakespeare’s knack of seizing on the simple detail, the homely image, and the power of monosyllables and half-lines. And he brilliantly shows how the young writer found his distinctive voice, unlike many previously heard, in such plays as the three parts of Henry VI and The Comedy of Errors.

Pennington is perceptive on children in Shakespeare (they mostly come to sticky ends), while his suggestion that if you scratch a tragic hero you’ll usually find a fool strikes me as bang on the money.

He mercifully retreats from describing Shakespeare as a proto-Marxist, but does detect both subversive radicalism and barely disguised criticism of the excesses of James I in the plays.

Perhaps. But I would suggest that the constant insistence on order and social standing in his work could just as easy make him seem like a high Tory.

I was also sorry that Pennington didn’t spend more time discussing the death of Shakespeare’s only son, Hamnet, which seems to me to be one of the greatest influences on his world view. But Shakespeare in inexhaustible and you can’t hope to touch on everything in two hours.

Still, what a superb and constantly stimulating guide Pennington proves. Now in his sixties and with snow-white hair, he still retains the enthusiasm and curiosity that made his switch his allegiance from Spurs to the Bard as a child. This warm, wise, illuminating show offers further proof that time spent in the company of Shakespeare is never wasted.

The Mail on Sunday, 25^th November 2007, Georgina Brown

In Sweet William, Michael Pennington confesses that Shakespeare hit him like a hammer when he was taken, aged 11, by his parents to se Macbeth at the Old Vic. So began the sculpting by the Bard of one our most eloquent classical actors.

Having spent thousands of hours immersed in Shakespeare’s plays, Pennington gives us his personal, original and softly scholarly take on the playwright we know so little of other than he was a father at 18, was 32 when he lost one of his three children and was a countryman who knew the common Warwickshire names for wild flowers.

Pennington’s perceptions are fascinating, his verse-speaking is a pleasure. Like Dame Judy Dench, he calls a soldier a ‘souldear’ rather than a ‘sojah’ without it feeling forced.

Snowy-haired, his face and voice powerfully expressive – and as expert at suggesting the wiliness of Cleopatra as the authenticity of Flute, the bellows mender – he slips in and out of the plays that clearly create the landscape of his own mind.

An intimate, enriching encounter.

Evening Standard, 25^th November 2007, Fiona Mountford

If you plan to see one biography-of-Shakespeare show in your life, it might as well be Sweet William. After all, its writer-performer is the affable, erudite and mellifluous RSC stalwart Michael Pennington who, smitten by the iambic pentameter after a trip to see Macbeth at the age of 11, has clocked up more than 20,000 stage hours performing Shakespeare. For a look at the man, as well as sensitively performed excerpts from his work, Pennington is the one.

And yet I would contest that this peculiar sub-genre, an uneasy halfway house between lecture hall and theatre, is one best avoided by actors and audience alike. I still shudder at the memory of Susannah York skipping around, middle-aged and white-clad, recounting her youthful triumphs as Juliet. The trouble is, that however finely wrought the surrounding text, the passages of Shakespeare cannot but feel disembodied. We haven’t built up to any of the emotional contained therein, giving an impostor-like sensation. For the performer, it’s acting at its most artificial, which sits uneasily in today’s hyper-realistic clime.

Mercifully, Pennington doesn’t wear white or skip but stands still or sits like an avuncular Jackanory storyteller in a wooden chair, the only prop on the large, bare stage. Without turning the piece into a tedious study-guide chronology, he takes us elegantly through Shakespeare’s life and work, from early Warwickshire days to the arrival of this ‘upstart crow’ in London, through to the patronage of James I, whose licentious court Shakespeare so subtly parodied in Timon of Athens.

Pennington sensibly avoids Now That’s What I Call Shakespeare numbers from Hamlet and Henry V, concentrating instead on lesser-known speeches from the likes of Henry VI Part Three. His gently wry mockery of the Shakespearean tourist tat of modern-day Stratford leaves us wanting slightly more contemporary commentary, as well as a greater account of Pennington ‘s own relationship with the playwright.

It worked beautifully for Dominic Dromgoole in his recent book Will and Me, so it would be a guaranteed success for someone with Pennington’s knowledge and experience. Bitter-sweet William, all in all.

What’sonStage, 26^th November 2007, Michael Coveney

More a friendly lecture than a show, Michael Pennington’s solo Shakespeare evening Sweet William is still one of the most entertaining and instructive evenings imaginable.

As in his marvellous users guides to three of the plays (Hamlet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Twelfth Night), Pennington wears his learning and experience at a fresh and jaunty angle, never pulverising the audience with strenuous theories or madcap readings. He simply takes the plays as he finds them.

Sometimes, though, the plays become enriched by their context for him, as did Henry V in the Falklands campaign, or Coriolanus during the Ceaucescu regime, or indeed King Lear on the day that John Major castigated the homeless in London as an eyesore. And some of Pennington’s chronological deductions are beautifully unforced, such as suggesting that the gluttonous, fashion-obsessed court of King James is a satirical target in Timon of Athens after the thinly veiled flattery of Macbeth.

Pennington starts by the excitement of discovery when, aged 11, a performance of Macbeth at the Old Vic (Paul Rogers and Ann Todd) quite dispels his enthusiasm for Tottenham Hotspur. With an actor’s insight, he suggests that Shakespeare, in his ‘missing’ years, could have just as easily run away with the touring players as serve as a soldier, a sailor or government spy, which are more common theories.

It’s an attractive idea. That sense of ‘discovering’ the theatre informs how Pennington sees Flute’s Thisbe in The Dream, where an actor suddenly finds himself able to still an audience with his farewell to Pyramus, not guying the lines. He relishes above all the Shakespearean mix of high and low, great verse and rough speech, and the artistry with which he oscillates between the two levels with no crashing of gears.

He treats us to wonderfully lucid recitals of great speeches of Berowne, Gloucester at the end of Henry VI, Hamlet and Antony. And he strikes at the heart of Shakespeare’s poetic genius in the expertly infected dialogues of Touchstone and Corin, Shallow and Silence, the sleepy Barnadine and his prison officer in Measure for Measure.

In all of this, it is Shakespeare’s humanity that Pennington celebrates, his greatness of spirit. And the actor does so with such wit and intelligence, you feel genuinely grateful that such a career has been sustained over 40 years from Cambridge to the RSC, and from the English Shakespeare Company he ran with Michael Bogdanov to his easy, unforced eminence. Bravo!

Time Out London, 28^th November 2007, Jane Edwardes

The Edinburgh Festival is always stiff with one-person shows presented by well known actors who like the idea of a little something to fall back on. But this is a cut above the rest. Michael Pennington, who abandoned Spurs for Shakespeare when he was taken to see Macbeth at the age of 11, is well placed to talk about the Stratford playwright having, he reckons, spent 20,000 hours on stage performing in Shakespeare’s plays. He’s also written a book on Hamlet that is a perfect combination of erudition and practical experience. In spite of an eccentric seating plan that forces him to try and face in two directions at once, he could hardly be more laid-back as he wanders on in a baggy jumper for an evening that is part lecture and part performance. How many professors on this subject could lurch from textual analysis into such a splendid rendering of “O what a rogue and peasant slave am I?” Apart from Hamlet, he seizes the chance to perform those roles that will never come his way, from Mistress Quickly to Barnadine, using them to show how Shakespeare is the master of the shift from high poetic utterance to low detail.

The actor was one of the founding members of the English Shakespeare Company, an outfit passionately committed to exploring Shakespeare the argumentative, political playwright, and Pennington sees him as a man who was disgusted by the excesses of the Jacobean, while ignoring his role in enclosing the land of his fellow Stratfordians. But it’s the depth of the actor’s insights and the originality of his choices that make this different from naff Bardolatory. The show could well have a similarly inspirational effect on today’s 11-year-olds who have already seen and enjoyed a couple of the plays.

Guthrie Theatre, Minneapolis

Star Tribune.com, 12^th December 2007, Graydon Royce

William Shakespeare “crept up and hit me like a hammer when I was 11 years old,” says British actor Michael Pennington at the beginning of his two-hour discourse on the bard’s life and work. The felicitous discovery seems still fresh in Pennington’s soul all these decades later, as he demonstrates in Sweet William, which opened at the Guthrie Proscenium for a two-week run.

Pennington’s love letter to Shakespeare draws on some 20,000 hours performing his work and many thousands more spent researching, analyzing, reading, pondering the work so that it has become “as present as white noise” in his life.

His manifest is not biography in the exhaustive sense. Rather, he offers a slice of his observations, illustrated with small scenes from the canon. Pennington connects the dots of Shakespeare’s life with a supple surety that relies less on historical record than it does on the revelations in his texts.

Pennington suggests that Shakespeare’s mind churned constantly as a young actor faced with poor dialogue. “He took the bad lines he’d read as an actor and refined them in his head for other actors.”

Too, the British actor/director divines Shakespeare’s political convictions from the insistent and sharp critique in King Lear, and the subversive suggestion that not even the love of Romeo and Juliet can deter their warring families from violence. Pennington sees in Hamlet a playwright wondering whether we want someone in power who is a bad person but a good king, or a good person who might stumble as a leader.

Heroes are brought low in Shakespeare, tripped up by fools and commoners.

Pennington plumbs deeper for evidence than the well-known (clichéd?) soliloquies. For example, he cites lines from Timon of Athens to comment on the court of King James. He pauses on the dialogue of The Winter’s Tale to muse over Shakespeare’s thoughts about children.

All along, Pennington celebrates the ethereal highs of Shakespeare’s literature and its earthly lows – a range of humanity that rings through the centuries. And he does so with a voice and cadence that cradles each phrase with delicious inflection and meaning. The result is as lively and engaging a primer as one might hope for.

Howwastheshow.com, 12^th November 2007, David de Young

If you’re not a Shakespeare fan, Sweet William is not the show for you. But if you are, whether of the academic, armchair or thespian sort, this show makes for an educational and enjoyable night on the town.

English actor Michael Pennington, perhaps best known by the American general public for his portrayal of Moff Jerjerrod in Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi, saw his first Shakespeare play, Macbeth, at the Old Vic in London at the age of 11. He was enthralled with the bard from that point on. Recently, Pennington put together this one man show (he had previously done a similar show about Anton Chekhov) in which he intersperses Shakespeare’s words from the plays and sonnets with facts and speculations about Shakespeare’s life and anecdotes about his own.

The two hour production (with a 20 minute intermission) had a recent run in the UK at The Little Angel, an intimate puppet theater in North London I used to frequent as a youngster. Sweet William opened stateside at the Guthrie in Minneapolis on Tuesday, December 11^th. The limited engagement runs through December 22^nd.

Pennington exhibits Shakespeare using excerpts from Hamlet, Antony and Cleopatra, Richard III, The Winter’s Tale and other plays. And he even explores Shakespeare’s so-called “lost years” (as much as one can as there’s not much known of the time between when Shakespeare left his birthplace in Stratford around 1585 and the time he started making his mark on the London theater scene in 1592). Pennington claims to have found clues in the sonnets to support his claim that the bard may have been a travelling actor during those years, albeit one who was “always complaining about the script.”

At intermission time, my companion remarked that she didn’t even need a break, despite the fact that Pennington had already been at it for a straight hour. It’s a testament to his ability to stand (and occasionally sit) on a stage empty save for an ornate chair, with no props other than a red handkerchief and still keep you interested. (If only my Shakespeare prof in college had been as readily able to pull off this feat!)

After intermission Pennington returned to the stage more casually dressed, looking almost youthful for his 64 years. He spoke of co-founding the English Shakespeare Company in 1986 (with Michael Bogdanov) out of an interest in presenting Shakespeare’s plays in more topical and modern interpretations than the Royal Shakespeare Company were doing at the time.

I found interesting Pennington’s suggestion that Shakespeare’s tragic heroes were most often men because women less frequently descend to the levels of foolishness required of such characters. I also found it helpful that Pennington explored the historical relationship of Shakespeare to James I of England, who was king for part of the time Shakespeare worked in London. He contrasted Shakespeare’s work under James to his work under Elizabeth I, who ruled England until 1603.

Pennington is versatile as – in the parlance of the times – all get go. The performance is delightful and well worth your money. Fittingly, Pennington wraps it all up with a citation of Shakespeare’s self-penned epitaph (“Cursed be he that moves my bones.”) He spoke of the fact that most of Shakespeare’s life had been spent practicing self-concealment (something that is, I think, more common in writers than is commonly suspected). He went as far as to suggest that Shakespeare is good for the health, and that getting together as we had done this night (as an audience) to partake of our own singular experiences was one of the more important things we can do.

He ended with a fitting quote from renowned movie producer and studio founder Samuel Goldwyn (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer), who in referring to Shakespeare had once said, “Fantastic! And it was all written with a feather!”

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