Dear William,

We have taken the liberty to write to you in the hope that we may suggest certain revisions regarding the plays in which we feature. It was pointed out to us, by a few others, that this could be seen as an audacious, even imprudent, move on our part, but we’d like to assure you that our petition has been penned with tremendous reverence and humility, keeping in mind, of course, that you are the greatest playwright the world has ever seen, etcetera, etcetera. Hence, consider this a gentle entreaty, if you like, by your nearest and dearest, who only have your best interests at heart.

These are our demands:

1. We would all prefer not to die. This tends to upset the audience. And us.

2. Apart from Hamlet. He requests death at sea while sailing to England. Feels it far more poetic than being nicked by a poisoned sword in a duel.

3. Romeo wishes for his play to be renamed ‘Romeo and Romeo’. “I was always,” he confesses, “only ever in love with myself.”

4. Juliet calls for ‘Juliet and Desdemona’. (She also requests an extensive rewrite to incorporate this unexpected, but beautiful, turn of events.)

5. Julius feels, as titular character, he needs more airtime. “Three scenes in which I appear alive. Three! While Brutus speaks more than four times as many lines as I do. How does this make sense, William?”

6. (Brutus says this doesn’t trouble him in the least, but “Marcus Brutus” has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”)

7. Macbeth assures you he’s agreeable with the title of his play, but feels a small change of setting might do the cast some good. Lighten the mood, as it were. No more cold, wet, miserable Scotland. Have you considered Bali?

8. Lear seconds that. Roaming the heath, he says, isn’t much fun. Especially when running into many flibbertigibbets.

9. We recommend a revision of the role of Emilia, Desdemona’s maid, who is currently threatening to hand in her papers. “My mistress is a twit, the master almost stabs me when I try to help, and I’m married to your most malevolent villain. Who stabs me dead. I’ve had enough.”

10. Cleopatra wants you to note she’s ophidiophobic. And has recently turned dairy-free.

11. Lady Macbeth feels one-dimensional. “I love long walks and Metaphysical poetry, but where’s the space for character enrichment beyond the blood and gore in your shortest tragedy?” Also, she’s still waiting for that consignment of all the perfumes in Arabia.

12. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are switching allegiance. Tom Stoppard, they claim, has far profounder insight and empathy into their characters than you ever did. They are stepping off your pages. Now you see them. Now you don’t.

13. Hamlet has changed his mind and now requests for death by fire. Much room for melodrama, he says.

14. The three witches would like to be named. “Do you not realise,” they ask, “how you continue to demonise the female figure? By leaving us untitled we become stock characters, easily, dangerously stereotyped. The “hags”. Ugly, old, evil women. We urge you to re-examine the term with better informed critical historical perspective. In addition, read Heather Marsh’s essay ‘Witches and how they are silenced’. And if you find yourself at a loss for names, we’d like to suggest Sybil, Bathsheba, and Daisy.

15. Othello would like a rewrite of the handkerchief speech. Not in character, he says. Implausible that a tale of such sentimentality should come from him, master storyteller that he’s meant to be. His mother gifts him the hanky on her deathbed? “Come on, you can do better.”

16. Desdemona concurs. “Doesn’t say much about me if I believe such trite.” Also Othello’s stories now tire her. (Juliet, she adds, is lovely.)

17. Richard III would first like to thank you for writing him the most eloquent of opening lines, but wants to know what you were thinking when you penned his last. “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!? Tragic yes, but you try saying that while trying to keep a straight face.”

18. Antony says could he just marry Octavia? Cleo is exhausting.

19. Hamlet has changed his mind again. He actually prefers death at sea. No, he’d like to drown with Ophelia. No, he says he’ll let us know later. (The rest of us suggest for the little whinger Prince of Denmark to be bumped off slightly earlier in the play. Act 1, Scene 2, preferably, immediately before the first of his soliloquies. May we suggest a deus ex machina intervention? We find it a terrifically useful plot device in times like these.)

20. Ophelia says, if she must, she’d prefer to drown alone.

21. Lady Macbeth would like to add that she also enjoys gardening, especially making her own terrariums.

22. Macbeth says he wouldn’t mind the Seychelles either.

23. Have we mentioned we don’t want to die?

24. Titus, Timon, and Coriolanus aren’t fussy about revisions; they’d just like to be performed more often.

This is all. For now.

Respectfully,

Your Tragedians

Janice Pariat is the author of Seahorse; @janicepariat

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