Publisher's Synopsis
In the fall of 1598, the First Secretary of the United Italian Republic, the nigh-immortal Machiavelli sets out for England on a diplomatic mission, in hopes of enlisting Shakespeare in his grand enterprise. Then ensues a correspondence on Shakespeare's first Henriad, which moving to the second Henriad, intensifies, and come spring, as Shakespeare works on Henry V and as they grow close, Shakespeare invites Machiavelli to Stratford to converse face to face. But will it be eye to eye?
From their lively engagement, thick with fell incensed thoughts, "the wiser sort" may discover both how much these mighty opposites-one the founder of modern political philosophy and the other the greatest modern poet-both agree and disagree, on how cities may prosper and souls may thrive.
FELL INCENSED POINTS OF MIGHTY OPPOSITES
"Everywhere today human life is judged guilty if it swims and innocent if it drowns."
"Xenophon knew Socrates. Xenophon looked up to Socrates. You're no Xenophon."
"... though tyrannical Richard III is repulsive to your audience, that only swaddles the insights in his witty use of Christian teachings to justify his crimes, to mock Christians, and to blaspheme God, from detection, and leaves them a foundling on the doorsteps of the few, and shields you, the only begetter."
"No...evil is not always the best policy."
"Richard II made tyrannical by "divine right"; Richard III made a tyrant by damnation from birth; Henry VI rendered contemptible by clerical education; and the people acquiescent to the tyrannical 'powers that be.' Could a more powerful case against Christianity be made than your Histories!"
"Your 'comedies' ... so devoid of merriment. And your tragedies...none."
"It is not true I recognize no noble failures. I recognized Cesare Borgia. His failure to unite Italy...and drive out the barbarians, was the noblest failure in modern times.... Only fortune defeated Cesare. As to tragedy, what is more tragic than Christianity?"
"You say a lot about murder, how good it can be, but nothing about death. The men I put on stage, like the ones I know, like myself, think about death. Does something or nothing come after? We don't know, not for sure. We wish we did. And we think about it. It's there all the time. After a fit of anger, a rush of activity, an hour of love, after the day's labor, or the evening's festivity, there it is waiting for us. And that is why my characters always give a speech as they are dying."
"Demand me nothing."
"So apt for philosophy, were he not so unsure of truth."
