I finished Antony and Cleopatra a couple of days ago, but haven't gotten around to blogging about it until now.
I'm not sure what to say about it. Cleopatra is mostly a bitch, nor is it obvious why all the powerful men in Rome were so attracted to her. Antony is besotted to the point of idiocy. Once we swallow these motivations everything else sort of makes sense. The body count (not counting unnamed deaths in battle) is six, unless I missed one; it's narratalogically impressive that every one of these deaths is an intentional suicide. Wait, maybe Enobarbus just dies of heartbreak.
The dramatis personae at the front of the play worried me: a long list of impossible-to-memorize Latin names. But I needn't have worried: the action makes it fairly plain who everybody is.
Now I am reading As You Like It, the "Forest of Arden" comedy.