Whenever I want to depress myself, I make a list of Shakespeare plays and cross out all the ones whose plots would be ruined if any of the characters had a smartphone. It’s a depressingly short list. Soon, if we want to do a modern staging of his work, we’ll have to stipulate that “In fair Verona, where we lay our scene/The cell reception was spotty/From ancient grudge that brake the AT&T.” Well, not that.