Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 12, 2025
He was a thin, rather frail-looking peasant, pathetic, and very gentle. There was something pure and fine about him, he was so exceedingly gentle and by natural breeding courteous. But he did not feel kingly, he acted the part with beautiful, simple resignation. Enrico Persevalli had overshot himself in every direction, but worst of all in his own.
He says that Enrico Persevalli has for his mistress Carina, the servant in Ghosts: that the thin, gentle, old-looking king in Hamlet is the husband of Adelaida, and Carina is their daughter: that the old, sharp, fat little body of a queen is Adelaida's mother: that they all like Enrico Persevalli, because he is a very clever man: but that the 'Comic', Il Brillante, Francesco, is unsatisfied.
It is the corresponding reaction, but in the opposite direction. But that is all four hundred years ago. Enrico Persevalli has just reached the position. He is Hamlet, and evidently he has great satisfaction in the part. He is the modern Italian, suspicious, isolated, self-nauseated, labouring in a sense of physical corruption. But he will not admit it is in himself.
In three performances in Epiphany week, the company took two hundred and sixty-five francs, which was phenomenal. The manager, Enrico Persevalli, and Adelaida pay twenty-four francs for every performance, or every evening on which a performance is given, as rent for the theatre, including light. The company is completely satisfied with its reception on the Lago di Garda. So it is all over.
Dear heart, how she sighed to rest on my sheltering bosom! And how I enjoyed my dual nature! How I admired myself! Adelaida chose La Moglie del Dottore for her Evening of Honour. During the following week came a little storm of coloured bills: 'Great Evening of Honour of Enrico Persevalli. This is the leader, the actor-manager.
'Ecco, Amleto! cries the maestra, her eyes aflame with thankful justification. Then I knew that Signore Enrico Persevalli was looking to me for an audience. His Evening of Honour would be a bitter occasion to him if the English were not there to see his performance. I hurried to get ready, I ran through the rain. I knew he would take it badly that it rained on his Evening of Honour.
So we drank in salute of Italy. They sent their greeting by me. 'You know in Italy there is the sun, the sun, said Alfredo to me, profoundly moved, wet-mouthed, tipsy. I was reminded of Enrico Persevalli and his terrifying cry at the end of Ghosts: 'Il sole, il sole! So we talked for a while of Italy. They had a pained tenderness for it, sad, reserved.
Whilst in private life there is a swing back to paltry selfishness as a creed. And in the war there is the position of neutralization and nothingness. It is a question of knowing how to be, and how not to be, for we must fulfil both. Enrico Persevalli was detestable with his 'Essere, o non essere'. He whispered it in a hoarse whisper as if it were some melodramatic murder he was about to commit.
She was from the plain, like Enrico Persevalli and the Bersaglier from the Venetian district. She reminded me again of oxen, broad-boned and massive in physique, dark-skinned, slow in her soul. But, like the oxen of the plain, she knew her work, she knew the other people engaged in the work. Her intelligence was attentive and purposive.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking