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popsicletheduck · 3 years ago

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Fanfic ask game time! 💖 🖊 🏅🌙 🧠 (emojis my detested, i hope these show up properly. if they don't then it's: heart, pen, medal, moon, brain. as far as i can tell anyway)

What do you like most about your own writing?

Man, you're gonna make me be nice to me? Umm, I like writing characters having breakdowns or introspective moments when I can really get into the way that they're feeling and I think that I do that pretty well.

Post a snippet from a current WIP

What do you know, it's a breakdown/introspection. It's a bit long, but I've been working on a Dragon Age: Inquisition fic about my Inquisitor Persistence Trevelyon as I play through the game for the first time and I like this section quite a bit.

Haven's gate shuts behind her with a thud and she's still going, past the army's camp and the training grounds and out into the barren white hills beyond and she's still going, down to the shore of the vast frozen lake where the wind whips with glacial chill and all the way down to a little wooden dock she didn’t even know existed. It's only there she stops, the tips of her boots hanging over the edge. It's only there, standing between frozen depths and endless sky, she manages to breathe. She breathes and tries to pull back all the disparate pieces of herself into something resembling a whole, to find herself within herself again.

Persistence shuts her eyes. Here the only thing she can hear is the wind, whistling across the ice and rustling the pines. And distantly, sometimes, almost more felt than heard, the rumbling of the Breach. How fucked is it that it's here she feels most at ease, here where the Breach stains the sky in a permanent sickly green sunset and the cold pries at any chink in her armor. At least here the world feels honest. All of Val Royeaux's bright colors and sunshine seemed only to protect something rotten at its very core. Here the ending of the world feels eminent. Real. Something she can do something about. It is a part of her tragedy that the feeling leaves her with something passable as relief.

With one more deep breath of frigid air that burns her lungs, Persistence turns from the lake back to Haven. There’s work to be done.

What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc)?

I've actually been changing the way that I write and it's going really well! I've been giving myself permission to write a really rough first draft that's somewhere between a first draft and notes and then coming back later to polish it into actual writing. I'm enjoying the process of writing a lot more these days and that's nice.

What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

Afternoon-ish, sometime between 12pm and 4pm roughly. That's when I'm most productive and my brain is working the best. Which means that's also generally when I have Actual Stuff to get done, so I don't actually write during that time very often. I'm more likely to be writing sometime between 7-9pm.

What's an idea you have that you can't quite call a WIP yet?

Like I said I'm playing through Dragon Age: Inquisition for the first time and I am Not Good At Video Games so I have a laundry list of very stupid things I've done in the game (tried to chase down some goats, fell down ladders twice, fell off a cliff, etc.) I really want to write all of that happening in character to my himbo of an Inquisitor, but I also want to write it from the perspective of my various companions, and I don't think I know any of them well enough yet to write from their perspectives yet. Once I've finished the game I'll see about coming back to it.

#thank u kata!#lov u #sorry about the emojis #they did turn up right tho #long post

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likeniobe · 8 years ago

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also a handful of my favorite images I’ve come across in the miscellany

#sp #manuscripts #17 #trevelyon miscellany #emblems

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strivingscribe · 6 years ago

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ILIC ~ CH 29

It’s Lost Its Charm by MsMoon

Chapter 29 ~ the Morning After

Chapters: 29/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

First came the smell, though even that wasn’t what woke her. Not quite anyway. Her stomach echoed with a sharp pang to the smell of cooked meat, but what really woke her was the sound. The rusted creak of the door opening and closing, the subtle rattle of a utensil on a plate...soft cloth.

Her eyes pried open, thankful of the dim light. Drifting slowly to her left... her eyes landed on Sam, asleep upright in a chair. His hair was a riot, and his five o’clock shadow had transitioned into ten o’clock scruff.

She cast her gaze around the room, finally noting where the sound was coming from.

“Syra?” she whispered, leveling up on an elbow. The little servant from the kitchens with ash-blonde hair. She was high-stepping over something on the floor before Amy's guttural voice snapped those enormous blue eyes of her up front and center.

“Oh! Amy!” she whispered in a rush, half skipping to the bed. Luckily, instincts honed from long hours in the kitchen kept the plate of food she carried aloft and balanced. “oh! Amy! When we heard what happened we were so worried! Are you hungry?” this confession and question were both rushed one after the other, leaving Amy more than a little confused. There was a joke to be had about care-takers equating health, worry, and food all together... but who had the time for that?

Amy sat up, surprised at the strange union of opposites she felt. She was, at the same time, vital and waning. Weak and strong. Hungry and repulsed at the thought of food.

“I...think I should take it slow.” she determined. “Is everything else going well?”

Syra set the plate of food down on the side table and wrung her hands in her apron a bit. “As well as can be expected. I was sent to rouse Master Trevelyon… He’s had a rough time of it, but being just past eight bells...it’s time he was awake.” the girl’s eyes scattered about the room. “Not sure about your... others here though…”

“Others?”

“The elves sleepin’ on your floor.” she said, motioning towards the foot of the bed. Amy’s frown deepened as she interpreted what Syra was saying. “Shall I bring meals for them as well?”

Amy nodded. “Please do.” she tugged the blankets off, surprised to find her legs bare…. the dress she’d been given was still on, even if a touch rucked up. It hit just above her knees, so she was covered… Why would anyone remove her…

...breeches?

She suddenly wondered if Sera were nearby.

“I’ll wake everyone.” Amy promised. Syra nodded and hopped out of the room.

“Sam.” Amy called softly. He took a deep breath but barely stirred at all. Amy leaned into a standing position, staggering forward a bit before coming to the side of Sams chair. “Sammy, it’s time to wake up.” she said, combing his hair out of his face with gentle fingers.

His head tossed back a bit as he stretched, his spine arching away from the chair back before he relaxed again. Weary eyes cracked open, half-lidded from sleep. It was nothing but naked exhaustion until shock rounded his eyes.

“Amy!” he breathed.

“Morning.” she murmured, stepping away, till she was seated on the bed again. She didn’t want to perch here too long, but she didn't want to push herself either.

She winced in surprise her arms drawing up and away as Sam slid forward, landing on his knees by her bedside, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face against her hip.

“Thank the Maker.” his voice was rusted, from fear or relief, Amy wasn’t sure. “Solas was livid. He kept saying things like ‘irreparable damage’ and ‘unprecedented fallout’.”

Amy let her hand rest on the curve of his head, hoping to comfort him.

“And Siheta? Bax?”

“Bax had no answers, just wide eyes. Siheta was… she tried to rally for us.”

“Solas is an excellent voice of caution. He understands that potential doesn’t always translate into something that isn’t harmful. Siheta is a comfort because she understands that something that starts bad doesn’t always stay that way.”

She felt him relax before his head snapped up. He drew back, avid gaze never leaving her face.

“You’re talking.”

She smiled. “So it would seem.”

He let out a startled breath that could’ve been a laugh.

“It’s going to be ok.” she assured, her hand drifting down to his shoulder. “Now, help me wake the others.”

She’d wanted to help but she ended up leaning over the footboard of the bed while Sam knelt to shake Tunan awake ...this began a domino effect, as Tunan shook Tunen awake, and Tunen was spooning Magpie. Amy lingered over the footboard, too afraid that once she got on the floor, she’d need help getting back up again.

Once awake, and to the point where she was aware of Amy, Magpie sprung up, nearly knocking Sam over to climb on the bed.

“You’re awake! And...better?” Magpie asked.

Amy nodded. “Sorry to trouble you.”

Magpie blinked, shaking her head in a slight double-take. “You’re...you sound great!”

“Another fantastic discovery.” she said, half leaning back against Sam’s shoulder as he docked on the side of the bed behind her. “We should let Leliana know…”

“I’m more concerned with breakfast.” Tunen grumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“That should be on the way.” Amy assured. “Why are all of you on the floor?”

“Because Maggie wouldn’t leave, and there were a lot of opinions about touching.” Tunen complained, half crawling to the other side of the bed until she could climb her way into a standing position...then...she just...toppled over like a tree that had been felled for lumber.

Her brother watched this without surprise or judgement, before rising and rolling up the abandoned bedrolls.

Luckily that was when the door opened, and a very bouncy Syra looped through. Miraculously, the multiple plates of food she carried remained undisturbed.

“Thank you, Syra.” Amy said.

“Yes.” Tunan murmured, taking a couple of plates from her. “Thank you.” he murmured before bringing it around to his sister.

“Oh, don’t mention it.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble?” Amy began.

“Yes?” Syra’s voice was eager, poised like the bands of a slingshot, ready to spring.

“If you wouldn’t mind quietly telling Leliana that I’m awake?”

Syra blinked owlishly, before leaning in and asking. “Should anyone else know?”

Amy thought about that before replying… “Perhaps...not yet.” when Syra nodded, Amy Smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

“This is exciting!” she chirped. “Happy to help.” and then she darted away.

“Kitchen staff…. they’re always hellishly busy… I almost feel bad.” Amy murmured.

“Please.” Magpie grunted around a sausage. “Any break from the kitchens is a good thing.”

Amy nodded. The Inquisition had a lot of people to feed.

“Well… Good morning, everyone.”

Amy felt Sam chuckle behind her, which was startling. It was then that she was struck by how common it had become…. that is... Sam never let anyone touch him. This prolonged contact felt shocking. She recalled the feeling of pins and needles any time Sam was very close before now… it was gone. Had this been some sort of energy from the mark? If so, how did it connect with her?

“So… you’re all better?” Sam asked, his voice hedged by uncertainty.

Amy considered the question as she considered the porridge Magpie was pushing her way.

“Getting there.” She announced at last. “A little shaky, but no bouts of overwhelming agony.”

A breath puffed Sam up and deflated him in the next second.

“So… if you’d touched the mark months ago, you would’ve been fine?”

Amy shrugged. “Impossible to say now. Maybe it would’ve killed me. Maybe I needed time to adjust...or maybe I would’ve gotten over it in the same amount of time.” she shook her head. “If what Siheta and I have discussed has taught me anything… it’s that the physical world does its best to adapt around the veil. That which doesn't adapt, changes… it’s equal parts skill, resilience, and luck.”

“But, you are feeling ok… right?” Tunan asked.

“I probably need to take it slow. Drink plenty of water and have easy foods.”

Magpie pushed a cup of water into her hands, and Amy laughed softly. She took tiny sips, then paused for any reaction from her stomach… when none came, she followed those sips with gulps. She felt the muscles in her face relax, and knew she was probably fine (even if a touch dehydrated). She still felt a little breathless, but… she would build up those reserves again.

A loud thunk clunked through the room before the door creaked open and closed again. Leliana wafted into a room of people watching Amy drink water…

“You certainly know how to keep people on the edges of their seats.” she remarked.

“Let’s hope it’s a phase.” Amy half groaned. “I won’t speak for the rest of you, but I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

Leliana’s eyebrows brose, a new light in her eyes. “You do sound much improved.”

Amy nodded. “Small favors. Our debriefing sessions have been painful on both sides, I know.”

In the time Sam had been gone to scout for Skyhold, Amy and Leliana had hidden away in her private quarters. Amy dictating information which she wrote in her own hand, and Leliana scribbling it down in the Thedosian equivalent. While Leliana never complained about this arrangement, Amy’s broken speech had been aggravating for Amy if nothing else.

“I assume today will be a day of recovery.” Leliana murmured, and she didn’t even sound resentful about it. Leliana had been accommodating in their interactions, but Amy wasn’t sure if this was because Amy had useful secrets, or because Leliana cared about Amy as a person. Still, she searched for hope.

“Yes.” Sam said, a strange firmness stiffening his tone. It reminded Amy of Conner when he tried to use ‘dad-voice™’ to convey authority.

Leliana only nodded in response. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Plans?” Sam asked, confused.

“A slow tour, I think.” Amy supplied, getting a sigh from Sam. The man’s eyes drifted closed, as he silently prayed for endurance.

“That’s 5 gold you owe me.” Magpie announced in triumph.

“That wasn’t a real bet.” Sam grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

“Would it be a real bet if you’d won?” Magpie snarked.

“Wench.”

“Children.” Amy admonished, before returning to her conversation with Leliana. “Most likely a very slow tour.”

Leliana nodded. “We should begin spreading word of your recovery. Not that it would stop everyone from working themselves into a frenzy upon seeing you.”

Amy nodded. “I imagine keeping it simple won’t curtail any flights of fantasy.”

“It hasn’t worked for me.” Sam muttered.

“Another brick in the myth of the Herald.” she bemoaned. Amy smiled, trying to accept this with as much grace as possible. “We shouldn’t begrudge them the stories they need to tell themselves in order to have hope.”

“I just wish those stories weren’t about me.” Sam groused.

“Now you know how Hawke feels.” Amy murmured. Amy felt herself tense up when Sam leaned over and embraced her. “Uh… Sammy?... I’m not wearing any breaches.” she murmured.

Sam drew back, staring at her in shock. “You’re not…. what?” He leaned forward, lifting the bottom of the blanket she was wrapped in near her ankle, revealing a very bare calf.

He looked back up at her, meeting her gaze before they both muttered, “Sera.” at almost exactly the same time.

“Perhaps now is a good time to mention that Madam Vivienne has been asking after your condition.” Leliana informed, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “It seems she’s seeing your latest escapade as a reason to provide you with new clothing.”

Amy’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “Thank Zod.” She murmured in a sigh of relief. Her eyes darted to Sam, who looked surprised at her words before she turned back to Leliana. “Leliana, I’m going to pose a scenario to you, because I’m uncertain exactly what I should do.”

Leliana’s eyebrows rose, but she only nodded as if to say, ‘go on’.

“Without indebting or ingratiating myself to Madame de Fer, I would like to make it clear that her counsel is appreciated in all things. That being said, I cannot stress enough how much I want her help in attaining...better clothing.”

And at that, Leliana did smile. And it was not cruel or patronizing in the slightest.

“Depending on how quickly you would like to go about this, I could send a servant with a message expressing your desire to meet with her and to inquire when she may expect to receive you.” she offered, and Amy found it a strange mixture of touching and curious. She couldn’t help but wonder why Leliana seemed so pleased to be helpful...

“Orlesians.” Sam groaned.

“Madame de Fer isn’t native to Orlais,” Amy informed. “...it’s simply the country in which she thrives.” She let out a deep breath, her eyes pinning Sam in place. “And that attitude of yours is unbecoming.” she added, sounding much like a big sister fussing at a younger brother. “It would serve you well to recall that many people make up this Inquisition. Vital, necessary people of diverse backgrounds and skills, and all of them bring….” Amy’s mouth tilted in a frown as she shrugged, “Je ne sais quoi… but they bring it to us.”

Sam blinked rapidly at her.

“What...what did you just say?” Magpie asked in the resounding stillness. “That phrase? What was it?”

“I don’t know what.” Amy responded.

“What you just said. The Genis ayqua.” Magpie clarified, or tried to.

Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she huffed little laughs around the phrase. “Free shavak ado.”

“What??” Sam's aghast cry was betrayed by the joy tugging at his lips and the light shining in his eyes. “What are you on about, you mad, mad woman?”

Leliana laughed softly with her, and the elves and Sam continued to stare between the two of them.

“We’ve lost them.” Tunan observed, his tone dull as it was blunt. He sighed, looking over at his sister, who seemed ready to fall asleep again.

Amy cleared her throat. “Sorry. ‘Je ne sais quoi’ is...” she almost said ‘French’, then thought perhaps Orlesian was a better term… but stopped herself, because she wasn’t certain about dialects or accents or...anything really. “….it means ‘I don’t know what’. It’s...My mother would say it often. Usually, to ambiguously describe a quality a person had that was just… just something, but it was unnamable.”

“Very aptly put.” Leliana murmured, still smiling, though it was more reserved than before. Still… she’d expressed more joy in Amy’s presence this morning than Amy had ever seen of her. It made Amy ...hopeful. “I will have your request sent to her, and you can most likely expect a response within the hour. She will undoubtedly send a servant with information of when she’d like to expect you, and we can go from there. Though… I don’t know if it’s entirely necessary. You are both in the same camp. Still. She will look kindly on the gesture of gentility.”

“Oh… she will.” Amy said with a nod. “I also don’t want to imply that I’m superior to her, or beneath her in any way.” Amy explained, her eyes drifting to the bedding. “This simple civility would be a way to do that.”

She didn’t see Sam rolling his eyes, still unimpressed with the Orleasian frippery.

“But…” this break in the conversation came from Magpie. “I mean, I get why you want to start moving about, but…” her face slipped into an uneasy grimace. “A full tour?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I can’t walk the entire field, I don’t think.” Amy soothed, and both Magpie and Sam seemed to breathe a little easier at that admission. “I certainly don’t want to try. Cullen might just pull his hair out if I caused that much of a disruption.”

“You might be surprised.” Sam grumbled, staring absently at nothing. “He’ll most likely be in a generous mood where you’re concerned.”

Amy blinked, not entirely clear in Sam’s meaning.

“He was very worried for you, Amy.” Magpie announced. “All of the soldiers were.”

“I don’t doubt that, but that doesn’t mean…” Amy sighed. “Especially now, when I’m not sure of my limits, I think I’ll be avoiding the field until specifically summoned.”

“Safe bet.” Tunan muttered. “Where do you think you’ll need us?”

Amy looked from him to his slumped over twin. “Why don’t you two stay and sleep in on an actual bed.” Amy proposed.

Tunan’s mouth hung open slightly as he tried to think of a response. Tunen beat him to it. “I can get behind that.” her words vibrated through the blankets beneath her face as she tried to burrow under them. Amy couldn’t help but smile at the display.

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to take a bit of a lay-in as well?” Magpie nearly pleaded.

“Might take a nap later on in the day if things get rough. But… we gotta start sometime.” Amy shook her head, feeling that tightness in her chest again as she thought of everything that needed to be done. “And oh, Scooby Dooby-doo, we’ve got work to do now.”

#ILIC #It's Lost Its Charm #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Fan Fiction #DAFF #DAFF It's Lost Its Charm #Amy McManus #Magpie #Tunan Lavellan #Tunen Lavellan #Samuel Trevelyan #Leliana

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petitpoulailler · 7 years ago

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ecoledeschartes · 8 years ago

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Classer pour communiquer : cataloguer les mazarinades de la Folger. Un exemple de mission de stagiaire

Catherine Koehl effectue son stage de 4e année à la Folger Shakespeare Library (Washington). Voir la carte des stages

Lorsque Emily et Henry Folger decidèrent de fonder une bibliothèque, ils choisirent Shakespeare comme figure tutélaire. Shakespeare n’était pour eux seulement celui qui avait fait de l’anglais une langue littéraire, en lui donnant des lettres de noblesse. Il était aussi celui qui, par le truchement de cette langue anglaise, entretenait le souvenir des liens entre nouveau et ancien monde.

Aussi achetèrent-ils nombre d’exemplaires des livres de Shakespeare (en particulier les first folios, objets d’une exposition récente), mais aussi d’objets venant de son époque ; ainsi le Sieve portrait de la Reine Élisabeth, ou des morceaux de bois réputés provenir de la maison de Shakespeare.

The Plimpton "Sieve" portrait of Queen Elizabeth. L’original n’est plus exposé actuellement.

Avec le temps, les acquisitions de la Folger couvrirent un champ de plus en plus important. D’abord le monde anglo-saxon au temps de Shakespeare, puis les pays européens en général, dans divers domaines. Tout d’abord la littérature et le théâtre, mais aussi l’histoire, la religion, les sciences, la médecine, la politique, sans oublier le fors privé.

The Trevelyon Miscellany of 1608. Ici, reproduction d’une double-page, représentant une table de concordance temporelle. Mais dans ces miscellanées, on trouve de tout, des motifs de broderie à des portraits de souverains.

Au gré des responsables, certaines collections sont plus favorisées que d’autres, ou d’autres opportunités se font jour. Aussi, dans les années 1980, le conservateur responsable des imprimés anciens décida d’acquérir des pamphlets politiques. C’est ainsi que commença l’acquisition des mazarinades, qui furent achetées « en gros », pour finir par constituer une collection qui comprend entre 1500 et 2000 documents.

Folger, DC124 M837 Cage. Un exemple d’une des mazarinades acquises à cette époque

Cependant, comme ce fond fut constitué somme toute de manière assez rapide et plutôt tardivement dans l’histoire de la bibliothèque, les pamphlets acquis par la bibliohèque furent recensés uniquement en marge d’un exemplaire de la Bibliographie des mazarinades de Cyprien Moreau, et ne furent jamais intégrés au catalogue en fiche. Les documents ne sont donc pas plus recensés sur le catalogue en ligne, Hamnet (jeu de mot entre le nom du fils de Shakespeare et internet), hormis les acquisitions les plus récentes.

Cet état de fait a pour conséquence la complète méconnaissance d’un fond qui pourrait intéresser nombre de chercheurs, même ceux travaillant sur le domaine anglo-saxon. Lorsque des chercheurs connaissent l’existence de ce fond, grâce aux articles parus sur le sujet dans Folgerpédia (le wiki de la bibliothèque) et Collation (le blog), et cherchent à le consulter, ils sont un peu déroutés lorsqu’ils comprennent qu’il n’existe pas d’instrument de recherche, pas plus que de relevé systématique, y compris dans la fameuse Bibliographie des mazarinades (parce que, dans le cas des recueils factices, seule la première mazarinade du recueil est recensée).

Un des trois post de Collation sur les mazarinades.

Aussi, pour faire connaître la collection, pour pouvoir aussi en avoir une meilleure connaissance interne, une opération de catalogage était plus que nécessaire.

La première étape a été de concevoir un modèle en MARC21 de catalogage des mazarinades. Première question : quels étaient les champs nécessaires ? On a ainsi hésité à inclure un champ de note pour mentionner si la mazarinade avait été imprimée avec privilège royal. Mais même les champs qui semblaient aller de soi n’étaient pas si évidents. Par exemple, les règles de transcription des titres de la Bibliothèque du Congrès stipule que le titre doit être écrit comme sur le document, mais avec majuscules, ponctuation et i/j u/v normalisés. MARC21 prévoît aussi la possibilité d’un autre champ, qui sera invisible sur la notice présente dans l’OPAC, permettant d’inclure un titre sans aucune normalisation. Fallait-il respecter la casse à chaque fois ? Est-ce que la transcription de Moreau pouvait servir systématiquement de transcription normalisée ? Et si non, quel champ ajouter ?

Le temps moyen pour cataloguer une mazarinade se situait entre 10 et 20 minutes. Certaines en revanche qui présentaient des problèmes particuliers, et pouvaient prendre plus d’une demi-heure. Ainsi, le cas de la mazarinade mutilée, dont il ne restait que les 4 dernières pages. Comment faire pour la transcription du titre ? Il y avait aussi la mazarinade imprimée d’après une autre, mais indiquant les deux adresses d’impression.

Une autre surprise : des mazarinades manuscrites qui sont la copie presque conforme de mazarinades imprimée. Folger, DC124 M917ms Cage.

Cataloguer, en plus d’être une nécessité pour la communication et la connaissance des collections, présente un autre avantage : celui de pouvoir contrôler leur état. Par exemple : on a déjà dit que la collection avait été commencée dans les années 1980. Certaines des mazarinades avaient été alors conditionnées dans des feuillets de papier acide, dont on méconnaissait alors la nocivité. Mais les mazarinades solitaires ont été depuis reconditionnées dans une autre pochette, neutre celle-ci, sans cependant que la chemise acide ait forcément été enlevée. Ce genre de chose était impossible à contrôler en faisant un survol des étagères.

Un autre intérêt de cette mission de catalogage était la possibilité de pouvoir échanger à ce sujet avec d’autres catalogueurs, l’un d’eux étant membre du RBMS Bibliographic Standards Committee, qui avait été chargé de rédiger un Descripive Cataloging of Rare Materials Books.

L’ampleur du projet en revanche est telle qu’il va falloir un certain temps avant de pouvoir faire entrer toutes les mazarinades dans Hamnet. Mais déjà, peu avant mon départ, un chercheur s’est manifesté, avec pour projet de comparer le message politique des pamphlets anglais et des mazarinades.

#Folger Shakespeare Library #Washington #USA

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