Tuckered out.

Whenever I read Shakespeare, whenever I see his plays performed, I wonder why I don't read and study him more. At dinner, before we ran across town to claim our seats for a tremendous production of Cymbeline, our friend asked us whether Shakespeare should, in fact, be considered the greatest writer England ever produced. We each thought about it for a moment, and then the reasons started coming to us, one after the other, and we said yes. I'm not sure that I'd take any of the plays with me to the proverbial desert island if Middlemarch were there to be grabbed. But. But. For range and artistry and inventiveness, yes, I'll give it to Shakespeare. (Like he needs it from me.)

For now, Posthumus and Imogen and all the senseless suspicions and the sufferings and the revelations have worn me out.