THOMASINA: I hate Cleopatra. Everything is turned to love with her. I never knew a heroine that makes such noodles of our sex. It only needs a Roman general to drop anchor outside the window and away goes the empire like a christening mug into a pawn shop. She embraced the enemy who burned the great library of
without so much as a fine for all that is overdue. Oh, Septimus! - can you bear it? All the lost plays of the Athenians! Two hundred at least by Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides - thousands of poems - Aristotle’s own library brought to Alexandria by the noodle’s ancestors! How can we sleep for grief? Egypt
SEPTIMUS: By counting our stock. Seven plays from Aeschylus, seven from Sophocles, nineteen from Euripides, my lady! You should no more grieve for the rest than for a buckle lost from your first shoe, or your lesson book which will be lost when you are old. We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will revel themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You do not suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of
, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew? Alexandria
Just reading that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And ten years after Stoppard wrote those lines came this: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/3269965.stm - not a complete long-lost play of Aeschylus but who knows what may turn up one day.