As I sit here ruminating and pecking away at a paper on Hamlet, eating popcorn and wishing the kitchen weren't so far away that I have to get up to get a drink of orange juice, a typo strikes my eye and sparks a thought.
What, oh what did a guy named Claude ever do to Shakespeare? Here's Hamlet, fast becoming my favorite tragedy, with this Danish fellow trying to kill some Claudius, and all of us cheering him on; and here's Much Ado About Nothing, probably my favorite comedy (though that may be a three-way tie), where everyone's favorite line is the one that goes "Kill Claudio!" and again, a lot of us are probably cheering her on.
There may be something in this. Was Claudio the name of the rival poet? A really bad actor who hammed Shakespeare's lines? Or just some butcher who sold Mrs. Shakespeare a badly trimmed chop back home in Stratford-on-Avon?
Then again, Austen used the name Jane for everybody; and I'd laugh my head off at anyone who thought she was the least bit like either Miss Bennet or Miss Fairfax.
There must be a moral in there somewhere. Probably having to do with Orange Juice. If it be not now, then it is to come ...