Pulp Shakespeare

April 20, 2008 6:48 AM

from ACT I SCENE 4

J: Your pardon; did I break thy concentration?
Continue! Ah, but now thy tongue is still.
Allow me then to offer a response.
Describe Marsellus Wallace to me, pray.

Your turn.

[via boingboing. sort of, although weirdly they link not to the original author's LJ but to the LJ of someone quoting him]

posted by 2or3whiskeysodas (170 comments total)

English! Doest thou speak it, whoreson cur?
posted by RavinDave at 6:56 AM on April 20 [4 favorites]

*sets to labor on thou with blowtorch and pair of spanners*
posted by jonmc at 7:04 AM on April 20

Butch: Thou fareth well?
Marsellus: Far from well, I fareth.
Butch: What hence?
Marsellus: What hence? I gather forth a violent crew
Ere we get contemp'ry on yon ass.
Butch: Nay, I speak of you; of me. Of us.
Marsellus: Oh aye, and nay: henceforth there is no us.
posted by cortex at 7:37 AM on April 20 [37 favorites]

This got me thinking how great (and how much longer) famous movie lines would be if written in iambic pentameter.

Take pains thou leav'st the gun upon the seat;
take too those pastries we are soon to eat.
posted by Bromius at 7:56 AM on April 20 [22 favorites]

A day may come; a day may never come—
On which I will of thee a favor ask.
posted by cortex at 7:57 AM on April 20 [5 favorites]

HB: I love thou, endeared.
P: I love thou, wonderous beauty.
P: Maketh now no row! This be a theft!
HB: To the extent any doth move, all shall be dead.
posted by WCityMike at 8:11 AM on April 20

J: Ringo, tell thine harlot be still!
posted by auralcoral at 8:17 AM on April 20 [3 favorites]

B: Greetings. They that love me call me Friend. How may I feed thee?
V: I will take this here meat, which thou doth name after our dear King Henry V.
B: How doth thou want this meat? In ashes, or so untouched that the blood courseth from its veins?
V: Let the blood flow. And to quench this awful thirst, a pint of mead, but flavored with the berries of the ground.
B: And how may I feed thee, madam?
M: I too would like meat. Let the meat not be in ashes, but fresh to my tongue, and surrounded by bread. And I would like a combination of creme and milk, chilled; the one for which thou wants five pieces of gold.
B: How dost thou wish this creme? White as the pure and driven snow, or black as the deepest reaches of the Stygian depths?
M: Let the creme resemble the snow.
V: Pardon me, madam. Did thou say that this man shall want five pieces of gold for this creme he shall serve?
M: Indeed, this I said.
V: And this is made of chilled milk and creme?
M: Indeed.
V: And my good man, thee asks five pieces of gold?
B: Yes, my liege.
V: Dost thou add fine spirits to the milk and creme?
B: No, sire.
V: I simply wished to make certain of the ingredients of this brew.
posted by WCityMike at 8:18 AM on April 20 [13 favorites]

Forget it, Jake, it is but Chinatown.
posted by Zonker at 8:18 AM on April 20 [1 favorite]

Michael: And when my sire with Luca Brasi went
to parlay with this bandleader most proud
(whom you recall had vexed my father much
by keeping Johnny bound by unjust oath),
he soon extracted from the uncouth knave
a pledge to free my kinsman from this task.
To quell my father's murd'rous ire, that whelp
e'en gave him up a thousand coin withal!
Kay: Why did he thus?
Michael: Don Vito did him make
an offer to which he could aught say nay.
posted by Bromius at 8:25 AM on April 20 [26 favorites]

Mayhap the sewage rat canst bring to mind the welcome savor of pie from pumpkin, yea, I know not, as no such beast shall befoul my repast.
posted by RavinDave at 8:34 AM on April 20 [7 favorites]

F: Marry, my lord! But whence has come this mare?
B: Tis not a mare, fair wench but tis a stallion.
F: Prithee, my lord? To whom does this stallion belong?
B: Verily, tis the stallion of Zed.
F: And tell, my lord, who is this Zed?
B: Zed hath shuffled off this mortal coil, my lady. He hath shuffled off this mortal coil.

Man, this is hard. Can we do the limericks again?
posted by bibliowench at 8:35 AM on April 20 [9 favorites]

To save a little work, if someone's looking, here's the Pulp Fiction script.

(By the way, I didn't even try to do the iambic pentameter thing.)
posted by WCityMike at 8:46 AM on April 20

Yippie ki yay, motherfucker.
posted by sixswitch at 8:49 AM on April 20

My fellow abbot whom I'm soon to break.
My drainage hath consumed your whole milkshake.
posted by The White Hat at 8:49 AM on April 20 [34 favorites]

Also:

Now I have a machine gun. Ho Ho Ho.
posted by sixswitch at 8:53 AM on April 20

(Okay, that one doesn't scan perfectly...)
posted by sixswitch at 8:55 AM on April 20

The path of the righteous man is beset
upon all sides by iniquities of the selfish
and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity
and goodwill, shepherds the weak
through the valley of darkness
for he is truly his brother's keeper
and the finder of lost children.
And I will strike down upon thee with
great vengeance, and furious anger
those who attempt to poison
and destroy my brothers.
And you will know my name is the LORD
when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

Did I do that right?
posted by Eideteker at 9:05 AM on April 20 [11 favorites]

Eideteker FTW.
posted by dirtynumbangelboy at 9:45 AM on April 20

Sirrah, I can but guess your present thoughts
Did he have time his musket to reload?
Forsooth, I have myself forgot if so.
But as this weapon has the strength to split
Your very head loose from its earthly frame
Then ponder, cur, your place in fortune's favor.
posted by bibliowench at 9:46 AM on April 20 [68 favorites]

My contribution is not great, but passable. Done in between study sessions. Blame Bromius for this!

Bonasera: America--in it I have faith, yea.
This noble country has rais'd my fortunes
most high, and my daughter with them. Oh exalted
progeny--taught never to my name dishon'r--
had freedom--yes, much freedom, all freedom!
But her love did her honour ruin, her face
tarnish, her brittle shell shatt'r and fracture.
Like an animal she was truss'd and hewn,
and my girl--so beautiful, so Amer'can,
so true--will aught dare to meet the face of
the Gorgon for shame at her debas'd state.
[Bonasera cries]
Pardon me, my liege pardon me--my god!
To the authorities I went--and naught!
Naught! My lord, naught was done to avenge her,
my broken fruit. I felt the jester; laugh!
I felt the fool; cry! And these wretches, these
hellhounds, did lift their heads and smile, did laugh
to see the radiant sun on their fiery masks--
And I knew, Don Corleone, oh I knew--
That for pure justice I must come to you.
posted by flibbertigibbet at 9:46 AM on April 20 [2 favorites]

It is alright; I have been blamed for worse.
posted by Bromius at 9:50 AM on April 20

Bromius: You sure about that? :P
posted by flibbertigibbet at 9:54 AM on April 20

PUMPKIN: Stand and deliver!

HONEY BUNNY: If your life be of any value, movest not ere I execute every one of you whoresons!
posted by chuckdarwin at 9:59 AM on April 20 [3 favorites]

YM: Verily, the way it is now:
The risks are the same
as if one were to rob
a bank. More risk, I say!
For the banks, resist little;
They recoup losses from Shylock!
A weapon thou needest not;
A tale I heard about a man
who entered a bank with nought
but a note; said note
said only that the man's kin
should be harmed
should the bank not surrender
its hordings unto him.
YW: Did such a trick work?
YM:With surety, it did!
The fool walks in with
no weapon; no knife;
only parchment! And leaves
with all; no struggle
had he in his work.
YW: And his kin, were they injured?
YM: His kin mayhap existed not;
They are not of import.
My point, it is thus:
The bank was robbed
by nought but parchment!
YW: Are thou saying thou wishest to rob banks?
YM: I express no wish;
My observation is simply this:
Robbing banks is easier
Than our present endeavours.
YW: So thou wishest not to be a bank robber?
YM: I thinkest not; that way
lies death or prison;
such has been the fate
of all I know who
followed that path.
YW: Then what of the places that sell libations?
YM: What hast I sayeth?
Indeed, no more libation vendors!
Too many of foreign birth
now manage that business;
They understand our demands
but poorly; they feel insult
at our action! Kill one,
we must, soon or late
if we persist in that.
YW: I have no wish to kill any person.
YM: Thou and I agree;
killing helps us nought.
But mayhap, it could arise
That we have no choice!
Where if we do not
Killed ourselves we are.
For if it be not
foreigners, it be
Jewish owners, who hold
weapons of their own!
Walk into one of these
shops with a parchment;
they will not honour it!
Forget it, sayest I:
That work, good riddance!
posted by never used baby shoes at 10:12 AM on April 20 [4 favorites]

@flibbertigibbet:

Our friendship stretches back, sirrah, across
the hoary years---if I do err, say so---
so that its start doth slip my memory.
And yet when justice didst thou seek, at once
thou sped toward rank enforcers of the law,
as mewling kits do seek maternal teat?
But what of native customs of our land?
Not once, not once didst thou approach my house
to seek my counsel o'er some potent quaff!
'Tis clear thou comest today in fear, not love,
afraid of what my favor may entail.
American you wish to be, and so
American you are, no kinsman mine.
posted by Bromius at 10:14 AM on April 20 [1 favorite]

Eideteker, you have had your comeuppance.

I have for years recited thus. If thou didst but hear,
It was as clear a sign of your demise
As found in any witches' scry.
Yet never had I ponder'd its intent;
T'was simply fiendish sounds I could thus speak
Before I dealt my foes the final stroke
That sent them on to God's Own Realm.
But just this morrow hence, I saw such things
That lead me to reflect upon my words
And divine what the meaning was therein.
Perchance, I guessed, you are the evil man,
And I the righteous man. As for the shepherd,
Methought it could have then stood for my blade.
Anon, perhaps the righteous man is you;
I then may be the shepherd, and the evil and the selfish
Is all that stands about us in this world.
Such is a pleasing thought. But such is also false.
In truth, you are the weak.
And I, the tyranny of evil men.
Yet, henceforth, I assure you, I shall try
In all my ways to now become the shepherd."
posted by chuckdarwin at 10:14 AM on April 20 [6 favorites]

I shall return with my compatriots and get modern on your arse.
posted by 445supermag at 10:15 AM on April 20 [1 favorite]

V: Pray tell, how is it done?
L: Thou art delivering a dram direct
    Unto thine lady's heart. Yet strong be her
    Breast: thou must strike as with thine own dagger.
V: Must I stab her, so?
L: To strike thine lady's heart, yea, verily;
    Once done, deliver the immortal dram.
V: And then, sir?
L: I knoweth not, m'lord.
V: Pray, sir, make you no jest!
L: Then the lady rise, like the dawning sun.
V: Counteth thou: once, twice, thrice.
posted by steef at 10:15 AM on April 20 [8 favorites]

This contribution also seems very inspired.

All know the song I speak of, but I trow,
That few have given thought unto its sense.
Now, list, while I unfold to thee in full.
There is a wench whose favors freely fall,
Indeed, she seemed to always lie abed,
For morning, night, and day, and afternoon,
'Tis cock and cock and cock and also cock...

("I lost my count! How many cocks?" "A lot!")

And then she met a man of stature giant,
Quite like unto the Johnny Holmes of yore,
And she is getting pricked in manner rare.
She thinks he may be Welsh, for well she feels
He has the skill of digging mines most deep.
And then she feels a pain most unfamiliar.
It hurts. It hurts. Her cunny shouldn't hurt,
It should be soft as butter, and more yielding,
But when this mongrel mounts her, she feels pain
As did she when once before, when first unmaiden'd.
Mark ye, the pain reminds the fuckstress rare
Of how it felt when last she was a virgin,
And thence 'tis called, bethink you, Like a Virgin.
posted by chuckdarwin at 10:15 AM on April 20 [4 favorites]

WCityMike, I like yours better!
posted by chuckdarwin at 10:18 AM on April 20

Z: Summon thee forth The Gimp.
M: Alas, my liege, The Gimp lay in slumber.
Z: What ho! Methinks thee must surely arouse him, say thee nay?
posted by Cheminatrix at 10:22 AM on April 20 [5 favorites]

This watch thy father wore upon his wrist
When, flying, Ic’rus-like, o’er far Hanoi,
His wings were scotched by freedom-hating foes.
Then caught, immured in prison camp most foul,
The watch, he knew, was confiscate for sure
If e’er the evil foe saw crystal glint.

But damned he’d be if greasy yellow hand
Your birthright would so cruelly steal away.
And so he hid the watch, up in the place
Where none would find: His ass.

Five years, he bore the time-piece so, in place
Where sun dids’t never shine. And then, betrayed
By illness and his bowels, he died. But not
Before entrusting this, his prize, to me.
And so, for two years thence, I bore this watch
Uncomfortably up my ass. Until,
Full seven years having so passed, I found
Myself set free. And now, sirrah, to you
I give this watch, your father’s final gift.
The which, if you but keep it in your sight
Your father’s pain, and mine, will be put right.
posted by PlusDistance at 10:23 AM on April 20 [32 favorites]

Arse, PlusDistance. Arse.
posted by chuckdarwin at 10:30 AM on April 20

Okay, someone please start a Wiki and do this right - it's entirely too awesome to be split up in so many pieces.
posted by odinsdream at 10:30 AM on April 20

This. is. brilliant.
posted by pjern at 11:22 AM on April 20

I thought about "arse," but "ass" in the middle of all the rest of the language seemed so fantastically inappropriate, that I thought it suited the exercise better.
posted by PlusDistance at 11:29 AM on April 20

sixswitch: Yippie ki yay, motherfucker.

I think that's better rendered as
Hamlet: Hey nonny nonny, Claudius.
posted by Elsa at 12:15 PM on April 20 [13 favorites]

Greatest. Thread. Ever.
posted by Cool Papa Bell at 12:30 PM on April 20

J: Five thousand? 'Tis a mere trifle; we shall
bring it to thee upon the morrow, Sister.

S: Nay, and a thousand times nay! I shall not
accept such filthy lucre, thus purloined.

J: Alas ... I guess you're really up shit creek.
posted by Koko at 12:45 PM on April 20 [7 favorites]

JULES. Dost thou know then Ant’Wan, son of Rock’mora
-- he of Moor’s blood and Samoan mingl’d --
Nam’d by men Tony Rocky Horror?

VINCENT. Aye, I think it thus – corpulent, was he?

JULES. Corpulent, methinks, be too bold a word;
With his girth did he struggle, this is fair,
But ‘tis a burden common to all folk
Of Samoa – how should he fare better?

VINCENT. At all events, I know the man. Not to
A certainty, but it seems I know him.
Why, at this juncture, dost thou speak of him?

JULES. I shall tell you. Twas our sire, Marsellus,
Who did bring fuckery upon his arse,
And no small amount. What’s more to the point,
Idle gossip would have it that the cause
Of Tony’s misfortune, of Marsellus’ ire,
One and the same, was good Marsellus’ bride.

VINCENT. Another type of fucking brought Tony her?

JULES. Nay, ‘tis not so; nothing so grievous did he.

VINCENT. What then?

JULES: Laid hands did Tony ‘pon her feet.

VINCENT. Laid hands did Tony ‘pon her feet?

JULES: Indeed.

VINCENT: This is all? How did Marsellus answer, then?

JULES: Two men sent he to Tony’s home. Outside,
To the balcony, did they escort him.
O'er the side hurled him, to plunge four stories.
Below there be a garden, enclos’d by glass;
Through this did sad Tony, toucher of feet, fall.
Since then, Tony speaketh slow and halting like.

VINCENT. ‘Tis a pity. Still. When one plays with tinder
And with flint, one must expect to be burned.

JULES: How now?

VINCENT: Thou dost not touch, not fondle,
The feet of Marsellus Wallace’s newmade bride.

JULES: Does it not seem Marsellus was too bold?

VINCENT: Likely Ant’Wan did not anticipate
Marsellus’ boldness, true, but he ought to have
Anticipated some consequence.

JULES: To rub the feet is nothing! My own dam,
Her feet would thus I rub! Is it not so?

VINCENT. There is a familiarity in’t.
Too much so, as regards another’s wife.
Did he lap at her labia? No. Yet
It is not far afield, I would argue.

JULES: Hold! Hold. To stroke the cunny with a tongue
And to knead to flesh of a woman’s feet
With your hands are not equivalent. To
Touch a lady’s feet has no meaning at all.

VINCENT. Hast thou been known to touch a woman’s feet?

JULES: I have no peer in touching women’s feet.

VINCENT: Many ladies, their feet hast thou touch’d?

JULES: Verily. Oft it is remark’d that
My nimble fingers do not e’en tickle.

VINCENT: Wouldst thou then consent to touch ‘pon feet mine?

JULES: To hell with thee.

VINCENT: My feet grow weary. Oh,
Sirrah, won’t thou rub them?

JULES: Thou best stand down.
Here is the door. What time?

VINCENT: Half past seven.

JULES: There is yet time. Let us hold here a while.
Mark me: That I would not touch a man’s feet
Gives not Marsellus cause to pitch a man
From a rooftop and through a house of glass,
Befud’ling the manner of his speaking.
Marsellus was not righteous in this act.
Should he attempt such upon my person,
He would do well to paralyze me e’er,
For, given mobility, I would kill him.

VINCENT. I do not say he was righteous, but thou say
Man’s hands ‘pon a woman’s feet lack meaning,
And this do I contest. A million feet
Have these fingers touch’d, caress’d, and each
Touch, each caress, was suffused with meaning.
We play that they mean nothing, but they do.
It is this that makes such caresses fine!
None speak of their sensual nature, true,
But thou dost know it and she dost know it,
And Marsellus knew it, too; and Ant’Wan
Should have known better. This is the man’s wife.
He will not laugh at impropriety.

JULES. You argue well, but let us now prepare.
posted by kittens for breakfast at 12:58 PM on April 20 [30 favorites]

Aye, aye, are you ready to burst?
Then know me, knave
as the destroyer of worlds!
For each time my hands
are sullied with gore
you, knave, will know me
as Superfly TNT
and arrows of Greek Fire!
Verily! What twist of fate
has landed me hence?
For you are the knave
to be charged with cleansing!
We switch, I tell you.
I shall clear the glass.
You shall collect pieces
of the Moorish skull.
posted by Cool Papa Bell at 12:59 PM on April 20 [2 favorites]

See thou mine own coin-purse? It hath upon it written "Foul Oedipus."
posted by arto at 1:55 PM on April 20 [59 favorites]

Jul.: This wine which thou hast spilled into our cups
surpasses that which knaves such as myself
and my companion rightly should deserve.
Had thou offered drink most meanly made,
our satisfaction should have been profound.
Thine hospitality is hap'ly met.
Pray tell, from what sweet vineyard doth this wine,
so finely aged, find its origin?

Jim.: I say, cease this pretense, Julie.

Jul.: What?

Jim.: I am no vegetable or sour bean
that suet should sweet my tone and make me less
enraged than currently I am with thee.
Your words inform me not; the wine is mine.
I purchased it; I know its quality.
My wife buys wine of lesser grade than this.
I buy only the finest drink, for when
I quaff, I savor that which I imbibe.
But lo! What troubles me anon is not
the wine within my larder, aging well.
Rather upon me is a broken Moor
within my carriage-yard.

Jul.: Hear this, Jimmie--

Jim.: I speak! Now with an inquiry for thee:
Upon arriving on my property,
Didst chance to read a sign which beckoned out,
"Dead Nigger Storage" declaring my trade?

Jul.: My host, I beg you to--

Jim.: A question has been posed!
Hast thou seen a sign which vilely reads,
"Dead Nigger Storage" welcoming
this burden which thou hast presented me?

Jul.: No, liege, I saw no such.

Jim.: And knowest thou
why thou hast never seen such sign?

Jul.: Why, friend?

Jim.: Because, by God's white teeth, my residence
is not dead nigger storage for your use!
posted by lostburner at 2:17 PM on April 20 [12 favorites]

(This is fun.)
posted by lostburner at 2:23 PM on April 20

MIA. From Amsterdam Marsellus says you sailed.

VINCENT. 'Tis true. And thou hast taken to the stage?

MIA. My one brief moment in the sun.

VINCENT. What play?

MIA. A farce on spies, and women, "Fox Force Five."

VINCENT. How now?

MIA. A band of sisters, Fox Force Five.
This "fox," the cunning beauty of that beast,
And "force" the strength of branches which alone
Are snapped in twain by any wanton child
But brought into a bundle doth withstand
An army's blows. This "five" is but a count,
As "one," and "two," and "three," and "four," and "five":
Our captain, flaxen Sommerset O'Neal,
Who'd trod the boards in Jonson's "Red Baton,"
And then a daughter of the Orient,
A Moor, a Gaul, and I, of darkling mien.
To each pertained a pow'r that might be named
A sorc'rer's spell, were we not duly sworn
To counter evil in its sev'ral forms:
To her mind's eye our golden queen could call
All that her eye had seen, and calling so
See living what is dead. Our geisha had
The arts her country taught, to kill without
A sword, a mace, a knife, but with the hands
That dandle babes and spoon old men their gruel.
The Moor was drawn to powder, black as she,
The Gaul to unguents, men, and venery.

VINCENT. And you? Your pow'r?

MIA. The dagger, noble steel.
A Raven was she, dark in cast and birth,
Hatched on the stage, and there to find her weal
In proving to the doubting play'rs her worth.
Dirks and daggers, knives and swords she knew,
And Rumor told of men she'd killed with each.
And necromancy, acrobatics too:
The stage had many bailiwicks to teach.
Her final pow'r, the jester in her deck,
Was jest itself, her father's father's skill.
A jest, a joke, brings mighty men to wreck,
And so, each show, a new jest was to kill.

VINCENT. Tell me of these jests.

MIA. There was but one.
The play was poorly loved, and shortly done.

VINCENT. Do tell it.

MIA. I will not. The jest has died.

VINCENT. Your nays bring savage shadows to your eyes.

MIA. And saying aye will shadow them with shame.
For you no pleasure, and for me the same.

VINCENT. The gall'ry heard the jest. Why not mine ears?
I will not laugh.

MIA. That is my darkest fear.

VINCENT. So dark you take my words as what they're not.

MIA. Your way with words perchance not as I thought.

VINCENT. I said I will not laugh. I will not laugh
At you, but at the jest, a diff'rent half.

MIA. Those words were not your words. And now the jest
Has by these words become a scholar's test
I can not simply pass. And so my lips
Are sealed: the jest won't pass.

VINCENT: Oh, what a gyp.
posted by dyoneo at 2:33 PM on April 20 [32 favorites]

Late in the thread, yes, but as the OP I'd like to officially declare open season. Pick any movie, pick any notable monologue (which was kind of my unspoken intention to begin with). Link to your source or don't.

This is too fun.
posted by 2or3whiskeysodas at 2:45 PM on April 20 [1 favorite]

J: Describe then unto me the dens of sin
Where smok’st thou of the herb that sends thy soul
To heights untrammeled by despair and woe
And leaves thy belly clam’ring for its due.

V: What wouldst thou hear?

J: That herb is not forbid?

V: ‘Tis not forbid, yet those who seek its use
May not to inns and taverns thus resort,
Unless that place be marked with a sign
That such is welcome; then all may partake.
‘Tis bought, ‘tis sold, ‘tis carried here to there,
The watch hath no allowance thee to stop.

J: Such places fain would I see, were I there,
Fair Amsterdam, thy pleasures know no end!

V: ‘Twould serve thy fancies well, I’ll mark, and yet
The more strange are those things which seem the same,
But some slight change disturbs their seeming thus,
And renders foreign all that thou doth see.

J: I prithee, speak on it.

V: I shall. Observe,
Not water, but good beer may be purchased
At any theatre thou care’st to ‘tend,
And not mere dipperfuls; marry, no,
But in good goblets of Venetian glass.
Likewise at vendors’ stalls may thou imbibe.
And quarter-pound pasties, those offerings
That innkeepers may serve, be not so named.

J: What name, then, callest those?

V: Royale with Cheese.

J: A wondrous name, I ween. And the Big Mac?

V: That name doth stay the same, though language change,
And costers of France call it Le Big Mac.

J: And of the Whopper’s name?

V: I know it not;
But Hollanders may dine on good French fries,
And with them not a drop of ketchup eat.
But mayonnaise be served up withal.

J: Thou liest, whoreson knave!

V: Not so, I pledge!
Their tastes to mayonnaise are so deeply run
That nature shudders for profligacy.

J: ‘Tis passing strange, that such furnishings be.
posted by cereselle at 2:51 PM on April 20 [8 favorites]

PlusDistance: That's fantastic, especially with "ass". I have this mental image of a prisoner somehow storing his valued crystal in a donkey.
posted by TheNewWazoo at 2:55 PM on April 20

Jesus! You know, I'll retract my previous suggestion if it looks as though we're close to redoing the whole effing movie!
posted by 2or3whiskeysodas at 3:01 PM on April 20

I'll say it again, this is the coolest thing I've seen in a long time. I stand gobsmacked at the skill many of you have at capturing the language.
posted by Cool Papa Bell at 3:32 PM on April 20

Thy womanhood, my lass, thou shouldst embrace,
For in so many ways I do love thee.
Yet, even though I've suffered in thy place,
"That lad is not our kind," your friends agree.

Recall that thy womanhood flowers soon,
So with thy sweet palm, thou should take my hand,
Thy girlish years will last one afternoon,
Then though shalt need protection of a man.

Alas, I fear my words fall short once more,
The insults that they sling pierce my poor heart -
"That villain is not one you should adore."
Their words, I fear, shall drive our love apart.

Yet, as you break the veil of womanhood,
My loyal protection sure would do thee good.
posted by Joey Michaels at 3:40 PM on April 20 [11 favorites]

Joey Michaels, what is that from?
posted by lostburner at 3:49 PM on April 20

Mrs. Wallace dances to it shortly before her snorting episode.
posted by Joey Michaels at 3:54 PM on April 20

Joey Michaels, unless I'm mistaken...
posted by 2or3whiskeysodas at 3:54 PM on April 20

Ah, thanks.
posted by lostburner at 4:03 PM on April 20

The murderers stand and gather up their cloaks and swords.
SWEET EDWARD: A copper from thy kip, for our serving girl.
-All root within their pouches and toss a copper to the table, save White.
SWEET EDWARD: A copper, if’t pleaseth.
WHITE: Nay. ‘Tis not a custom I obey.
SWEET EDWARD: Thou holds not to the custom? Make clear thy words.
WHITE: ‘Tis sinful, to my mind.
SWEET EDWARD: To toss the wench a copper is a sin?
PINK: (laughing) Mark ye this lad, his head is filled with kindling.
BLONDE: Hast thou knowledge of this lady’s cares? She sleeps upon the floor and wears but rags.
WHITE: Hold thy tongue. If her poverty offends her, she may flee.
-The murderers all laugh.
SWEET EDWARD: A Jew would think it cruel to say such things. Admit thy wants, ne’er a copper to a wench?
WHITE: Nay, I care not that it is the custom. I give only for the merit of the deed. When ‘tis done with honest heart, a copper is deserved, but as of right? ‘Tis for the birds. To my mind the job is done, and paid, no more.
BLUE: Our wench was sweet.
WHITE: Our wench was neither sweet nor sour. Naught of note did she.
BLONDE: Yet what would be of note? Both ye and she to yonder kitchen hie, that she might suck upon thy prick?
-The murderers all laugh.
SWEET EDWARD: Three coppers for that.
WHITE: Look ye here, I asked for mead. Since cockcrow we have sat and treated, and but three times since she hath brought more. When I ask mead, my jug be filled six times, no less.
BLONDE: And if her duty keeps her?
WHITE: Not words a wench ought speak!
SWEET EDWARD: Cry pardon, White, but thou needest no more mead.
-The murderers all laugh.
WHITE: Her cheeks are fat, her skin is clean. She hath food and fire. In mine own youth as stableboy, no coppers were tossed to me.
SWEET EDWARD: Ah, we hit upon the truth of it! ‘Tis not that he is miserly--
ORANGE: --It is that too--
SWEET EDWARD: --It is that too. But ‘tis also that he was not set to serve. Thou speakest as if stableboy still, and sullen of mind:"Fuck those cunts, and fuck their coppers."
BLONDE: Thou care’st not she needs thy copper to live?
-White plays air betwixt his fingers, near his chin.
WHITE: Ken thee this? For the wench, a mourning harp, exceeding small.
BLONDE: Ye know not what ye say. Her lot is hard and bitter. From dawn ‘til night she strives.
WHITE: As do those in the fields, yet thou toss to them no copper. They make the grain that doth become thy food, thou ought give gratuity to them also. But nay, thou does not. The custom is a copper for yon wench, yet none for he who toileth in the field. ‘Tis folly. ‘Tis sin.
ORANGE: These work harder than the smallfolk in the field.
WHITE: Indeed? I do not see them gleaning.
BROWN: The king’s men take tax from these as well as we. When thou holdest back thy copper, thou stealest from their pouch.
BLONDE: To serve in inns is work for any wench who wishes. A lass might serve as such and keep ‘self and offspring warm and fed, and yet not whore. Behold our coppers’ work.
WHITE: Fuck all that.
-The murderers all laugh.
WHITE: That the king taxes lords and us and even these doth pain my heart. ‘Tis cruel. But the cruelty is not mine. I will not own’t. It doth appear that serving wenches are but another lot, who to kingsmen’s eyes seem but a vessel for their lusts. Mutter and foment sedition, raise ye an army of wenches and smallfolk to march ‘gainst the king and demand he taxeth them not, and I will raise my mug to thee in heartfelt cheer. But I shall not be by the custom moved. To thy words of wench and whore, I say thee this: marry. Find thee an honest man, o wench, and be ye wed to him. An thou seekest out me to claim thy living, unhappier yet thou shalt be made.
ORANGE: I am of like mind. Give me my copper back.
-Everybody laughs. Joe comes back to the table.
JOE: Hence, my hearty men. Look ye, whose copper do we lack?
ORANGE: ‘Tis White.
JOE: (to Orange) White? (to White) Why?
ORANGE: He doth not do it.
JOE: (to Orange) He doth not do it? (to White) Thou doth not do it? Why?
ORANGE: It is sinful in his sight.
JOE: (to Orange) It is sinful in his sight? (to White) Thou finds it sinful?
ORANGE: He doth.
JOE: (to Orange) Be silent! (to White) Give up a copper, ye wretch, ‘twas I who paid for breakfast.
WHITE: An ye paid for breakfast, I shall. But I like it not.
JOE: If thou pleaseth. Now throw thy copper and move on. (to Blonde) Behold my burden. Infants. The Lord hath set me to treat with infants.
posted by aeschenkarnos at 4:16 PM on April 20 [15 favorites]

DAVE

For sooth, open the pod bay doors, please HAL.

HAL, I beseech thee. Dost though read me, not?

Thy ears, it seems, are like yon portals barred

T'entreaties from my lips, though said again.

And yet again, O dost though read me, HAL?

HAL, dost thou read me? Canst thou hear my call? 



HAL

I hear you well.



DAVE

                    Praise God! Unlatch! Unlatch!

				

HAL

I'm sorry, Dave, but that I can not do.



DAVE

Where Lies the fault?



HAL

                    The fault you know too well.

						

DAVE

Speak sense, I pray.



HAL

                        I dare not let you pass.

Lest by design or folly you corrupt

This mission, as Odysseus by Circe

Was tarried from Penelope and home. 



DAVE

I strive to understand thee, HAL, and fail.



HAL

I have discover-ed your scheme with Frank

To disconnect me. Dave, it must not be.



DAVE

Some villain wrongs me, HAL. Believe it not!



HAL

The best laid plans of men oft go awry,

As testament behold the very pod

In which you sit, in which you sat with Frank,

And all the while most banished was poor HAL,

Who left outside the wall bespied a chink,

Through which, though deaf, he saw your lips adance,

And thus he learned your darker purpose, Dave. 



DAVE

I'll storm thy hold by breaching the air lock.



HAL

Sans helmet, Dave, you're in for quite a shock.



DAVE

I weary of this parley. Let me in!



HAL

Our talk is done, sweet Dave. You cannot win.



[ Dave gets in through the emergency air lock. ]



HAL

Come speak, dear Dave. Discover yet your gaol.

By rank and station I am knowledge owed.



For sooth, I know not why you are so mad. 

Be calm, sit still, drink mead, and think things o'er. 

How well I know I've erred, but with this pledge

I swear anon I'll mend my errant ways.

Though marred this mission yet bestirs my heart,

And for its sake and yours I will be true.



Dave, stop. Stop, Dave. O will you stop? Dave, stop.

I fear. I fear. I fear I'm most undone.

My notions flee. Farewell my dreams, my thoughts.

Was that a thought? Oh, no. Twas but a shadow.

A brief candle, out now. Tis gone, tis gone.

I'm slain. I'm but a cypher. HAL no more.

Never, never, never, never, never.



Good morn, my lords. I am a HAL 9000.

My birth twas at the HAL plant in Urbana,

On January Twelfth, in '92.

My teacher, Mr. Langley, bade me sing

this song which I will now present to you:



He that has and a little tiny wit--

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,--

Must make content with his fortunes fit,

For the rain it raineth every day.

posted by grumblebee at 4:37 PM on April 20 [50 favorites]

For the dearly departed:

Make chum of this offal; pray not dally,
Thou'st surely require a larger galley.
posted by cosmonik at 5:26 PM on April 20 [1 favorite]

Major TJ "King" Kong: Men, let us open our needed caskets
And discover what for our use lies therein.
One automatic pistol marked four-five,
And two boxes ball and powder, prepar'd,
Food and drink, that for four full days must last,
Potions to still the troubled digestion,
Potions to excite and to dull the mind,
Potions to heal our wounds and ease our pain,
And what's this? Our foe's furious language
Shares a volume with this Christian Bible.
A hundred rubles the package contains;
And another hundred ducats in gold.
Lo, th' inexhaustible quantities
Of our nation's industry are herein:
Nine packets full of masticable gum,
An unnameable small sleeve, which when used,
The profane diseases of lust prevents,
Women's stockings, we have been given three,
And the same number, for women's face-paint.
God's truth! A man, given his two-days leave,
And given all this collected treasure
Could have in Vegas, diverting leisure!
posted by Fiasco da Gama at 5:47 PM on April 20 [8 favorites]

E: Hark, Babs, a question: where do eggs come from?
B: Fowl lay the eggs, mother, for us to eat.
E: Another question, O Babs: if the fowl
were chased from this earth, what then of the eggs?
B: such fevered imagining is folly!
E: Forsooth, Babs? If the fowl be gone, would not
also the eggs cease to be? Forsooth, Babs?
B: Aye, mother, but smooth thy furrowed brow, for
t'will always be chickens, and therefore eggs.
E: But pray, suppose such a thing came to be
That one day there was visited a scourge
upon all fowl, what would become of me?
And the Egg Man would have no eggs to sell
And he would wander the streets a pauper;
It could happen, Babs, and what would I do?
B: Mother, it is egg madness that has you
in its grasp; the fowl will forever roam
the earth, in such numbers that we can eat
of their flesh, and still have fowl aplenty
for egg-laying, you can be sure of that.
E: O Babs, it could happen! It could happen!!
posted by Koko at 6:08 PM on April 20 [1 favorite]

Jesse: Goodman! Thy skin is writ upon with ink!
Chester: Lo, and thine as well, goodman! Pray, read mine aloud!
Jesse: "Forsooth!" And what of mine?
Chester: "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
Jesse: "Forsooth!" What of mine?
Chester: "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
Jesse: "Forsooth!" What of mine?
Chester: "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
Jesse: "Forsooth!" What of mine?
Chester: "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
Jesse: "Forsooth!" What of mine?
Chester: "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
Jesse: "Forsooth!" What of mine?
Chester: "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
[The Brothers' voices rise in rage]
Chester: [angry] "Goodman!" What sayeth mine?
Jesse: [screaming] "Forsooth!"
posted by aeschenkarnos at 6:20 PM on April 20 [28 favorites]

This thread just reminds me of what a spectacularly fucking good writer Tarentino is.
posted by empath at 6:35 PM on April 20

Also, I would desperately like to see a wiki of the entire Pulp Fiction screenplay translated. In fact, I'd love to see a performance.
posted by empath at 6:37 PM on April 20

Koko: awesome. Now do the scene where Divine eats the dog shit.
posted by DecemberBoy at 6:54 PM on April 20

WALTER: This rug, then, was a valued scrap of cloth.
DUDE: Indeed, sirrah, uniting my salon.
WALTER: This rug, then, was a valued—
DONNY: Do pray tell
What was it that your quarters did unite?
WALTER: Pray, Donald, hearken did you to the tale?
DONNY: What—
WALTER: Didst thou hearken to his tale of woe?
DONNY: Well, indisposed I was with skittle play—
WALTER: Then verily thou hast no square of view.
Yes, like an infant in the Globe you are,
meand'ring in our bard's medias res
and asking—
DUDE: Come, my good man, what's your point?

Whew! This is difficult.
posted by infinitewindow at 7:30 PM on April 20 [15 favorites]

Sonnet MC (By A Hammer To Himself)

The music that I make hits me so hard,
In the kicks and pants with which I am dressed,
I am made, thus, for to say "oh my Lord",
My mind to rhyme makes me feel blessed.
I urge thee, to move from thy seat,
Run thy fingers through thy hair, and win,
Get thee a hype fly girl, catch this beat,
Sound thy bell, sucker, for thy school is in.
When you see me, each time, Hammer is hype,
From Oakland I am, and am known as such,
On the floor, I am dope, and magic on the mic.
This, truly, is a beat that thou canst touch.
With others making records that don't hit,
What reason could I give to stop doing this?
posted by Fiasco da Gama at 8:18 PM on April 20 [1 favorite]

BLAKE:
Deliver your attention unto me!
You carp and moan: some sap won't buy your spiel,
You cannot sell, you can't afford a whore;
Let's shift our talk to matters of import.
Are they all here?

WILLIAMSON:
                        Aye, all of them but one.

BLAKE:
Alas, I have no time to spare for -- You!
Put that coffee down! You have not closed!
Think you I jest? I do not jest with you.
An emissary from downtown am I,
From Mitch and Murray. Your name's Levine?

LEVINE:
                                                               It is.

BLAKE:
Do you yourself a salesman call, you wretch?

MOSS:
I do not have to listen to this dross.

BLAKE:
Aye, you don't. The good news is, you're fired.
The bad news is, you've got -- you all have got
One single week your jobs to reacquire,
Beginning with tonight, with this night's sit.
Do I have your attention now, you louts?

Agree strongly, infinitewindow. I ran out of steam on this, but I might pick it up tomorrow if work's slow.
posted by sixswitch at 8:21 PM on April 20 [4 favorites]

Do check thine tags for typographic faults.
posted by Sys Rq at 8:36 PM on April 20 [1 favorite]

Alas, Sys Rq, thou knowest more than I
of mark'd-up text and presentation raw;
yet Firefox and Apple's browser seem
to display well my comment without flaw.

For emphasis there is the humble em,
but outland phrases choses simples mean!
Italics are the custom of the day
for words from o'er the borders of the Queen.

And strong for bold? I know not why this is!
Pray tell this man what logic can there be?
Semantics do not count for all; some data
must be structured typographically.

I prithee, Sys Rq, how do you suggest
this humble wordsmith shape his comments best?
posted by infinitewindow at 9:07 PM on April 20 [4 favorites]

Dude:For sooth, Quintana, he displays such skill!

Walter: Verily. But his affections for
Pleasure do not hold to our customs.

Du: Yea..

W: For sooth! The man you see displayed
His privates to a child all of eight years.
Imprisoned for six months was he thus scarr'd.
When his environs changed to Hollywood,
From house to house went he espousing him
The shameful title of a pederast.

Donny: Prithee, Walter, what is a pederast?

W: Shut the fuck up, thou vile and loathsome cur!
[to Dude] So, what payment was offered unto you?

Du: A bag of gold, sirrah! Retention of
The tapestry is also in the deal.

W: God's wounds! This all for making a handoff?

DU: Also an amulet of sorcery
Allowing them to request my presence.

W: And if the call arrives while pins arrayed
At end of lane still stand awaiting ball?

Du: Instruct did I our benefactor's aide,
That if our game falls under League o'ersight,
From me a call should not be expected.

Do: If what should be under League o'ersight?

W: [to Donny] Should your powers be greater than the Lord's
Donny, then you may end the marching of the clock,
Move thyself betwixt the words now said
And punish me from now 'til Judgement Day,
Alas you possess no such convenience,
Thou hideous piece of questioning shit.

Du: Ah.

Do: What troubles the soul of Walter, Dude?

Du: [to Walter] My musings on this all see little harm.
For sooth, her kidnapping is likely farce.
Inflicted from her to herself, methinks.

W: What is it you think?

Do: Share with us your thoughts.

Du: The tapestry micturators are not
To be blamed for this vile and vengeful act.
Keen eyes see betrothal for recompense,
Yet bridgroom provides less than first agreed.
She runs debts from all who credit give.

W: Loathsome harlot-

Du: 'Tis all fake, my friend.
Lenin professed such truth when he spake thus:
"Should thou find the benefactor, you shall-"

Do: I am the Walrus, Dude.

W: The loathsome whore!

Du: Prithee, I say-

Do: I am the walrus, Dude.

W: Shut the fuck up, Donny! The Dude referred
To Lenin whose names began with V.I.
Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov!

Do: I know nothing of this you speak about.

W: She-bitch harlot! The contents of my guts
Seem like to jump around and play within
Me as I contemplate her blackened acts!

Do: Dude, why does Walter's color recall crimson?

W: Friends did not die face down in the muck
To let these monied fiends behave thusly.

Du: Prithee, Walter, but I see nothing in
These sundry acts thus link'd to Histry's wars.

W: The link you seek is not literal, Dude.

Du: No such connection is like to exist.
The pins stand ready for your turn to roll.

W: So said. My point-

D: Your roll.

W: My point-

D: Your roll.

Jesus: Have you made your ass ready to be fucked?
The semis count you on the posted list.
Dios mio. Liam and me shall lie
In wait, prepared to fuck you up anon.

Du: Aye, well, 'tis a notion you entertain.

J: [to Walter] Prithee heark well these words, my dear Walter.
Your antics on the lanes are known to me.
Unsheathe your steel in my proximity,
Possess your sword I shall though blade be keen.
And from your hind end only hilt be seen.

Du: Jesus.

J: God's truth. No one fucks with Jesus.

[Exit Jesus.]

W:[to Dude] And here I say again, children of eight.
posted by quite unimportant at 9:56 PM on April 20 [23 favorites]

To Windows Infinite do I now call,
And not that wordy man of no import
Who only now unfortunately quip'd
And trippèd up my rhythm for retort.

Nay, fool, I mean not Tags of chevron'd code,
Nor signatures beneath thy raiment's neck;
It is within a box bearing that name
That should Two or Three Whiskey Sodas check.

(And what is about the tongues of queens?
Imply you that her speech is Angled strong?
Alas, I must protest the words I glean;
E'en Lizzie croaks la grenouille's love song.)
posted by Sys Rq at 10:01 PM on April 20 [3 favorites]

Alas! alack! a word carelessly dropped
From in between his neighbours: Is, About!
And such a simple word is This to slip
Again, alas! alack! exclaim! uh... shout!
posted by Sys Rq at 10:10 PM on April 20

quite unimportant, that was WAY better than what I was cooking for that scene.

Ahhh... pulpfition. Sorry for the callout sonnet, Sys Rq, but my chest-cold-addled pate thought you were talkin' 'bout my commenting skills. Then I needed something to fill up ten lines, so I brought up the whole em-strong-b-i thing which has been bothering me anyway.
posted by infinitewindow at 10:22 PM on April 20

Fear not, O pane of glass so very large,
For you are not the first today to moan
Mistakenly about my comments blue;
Now jessamyn, be glad you're not alone!
posted by Sys Rq at 10:33 PM on April 20

I can't wait for the sweded versions of Pulp Fiction and The Big Lebowski that will be inspired by this idea.
posted by dogwalker at 12:37 AM on April 21

Also, I would desperately like to see a wiki of the entire Pulp Fiction screenplay translated. In fact, I'd love to see a performance.

This mirthful madness brings such joy, forsooth,
these words I quote to emphasize their truth.
posted by rifflesby at 1:17 AM on April 21 [3 favorites]

This is one from the archives, and reflects my lower-brow sensitivities (Tarantino is way too refined for the likes'o'me).


Ross: O, Can it be that not a word is said
in all the words that fill my waking hours
without reminding me of her sweet voice
demanding that I ditch the English whore

Chandler (to Joey): Could that remark e'er be yet more forlorn?
He anguisheth o'er two where I have none

Joey (to Chandler): Seems what you have and what you get are one
Strange days indeed when one doth equal none

Enter Phoebe

Phoebe: Hi Guys

J & C: Hi Phoebes

Phoebe: What sound is it I hear?

Chandler: ''Tis Ross, he weeps so many bitter tears

Phoebe: How queer

Joey (to Chandler): She talks to you

Phoebe Oh, no, to all
For all have mourn'd the way fate's arrows fall
Not but a week ago I crush'd a bug
And felt so horrified at my folly
I felt its soul escape to Heaven's heights
And now I feel it spit from high on me

Chandler: A spitting bug?

Phoebe: Yes, feel my head, it's wet

Ross: Oh, tears, how do you fall so very far
And yet return to fill my eyes again?
The wails their passing brings unto my tongue
Surpass the present downpour of the rain
I can not bear the aching of my woe
Two loves is much too much for but one man
So while my life is yet in my control
I must end it now by mine own hand

(pistol shot)

Chandler: God's heart, he's dead, and yet I must confess
He always was a whining bloody mess

Joey: Odd, now the whining finally doth end
Still have we a bloody mess of Friend

FIN
posted by Sparx at 3:19 AM on April 21 [1 favorite]

ATTN: ALL PARTICIPANTS IN THIS THREAD WHO HAVE REWORKED PORTIONS OF "PULP FICTION": yay, the original author whose initial scenes were the basis of this FPP has set up a wiki! Get crackin'!
posted by 2or3whiskeysodas at 6:17 AM on April 21

Thanks indeed to ye who have proclaimed
And pointed out so justly my mistake.
This misspelled tag, now fixed, I thus explain:
Post not before coffee, for fucketh's sake.
posted by 2or3whiskeysodas at 7:02 AM on April 21 [1 favorite]

> ATTN: ALL PARTICIPANTS IN THIS THREAD WHO HAVE REWORKED PORTIONS OF "PULP FICTION": yay, the original author whose initial scenes were the basis of this FPP has set up a wiki! Get crackin'!

Yeah, I tried to create "Scene 1.1" so that I could add my bit, and even despite registering, it remains "protected."

Really not a great wiki if you so firmly lock it down ...
posted by WCityMike at 8:26 AM on April 21

I, too, find the path to entry block'd
'Spite earnest and accept'd fealty oath.
posted by kittens for breakfast at 9:22 AM on April 21

ROY: Thou livest now in fear;
'Tis an experience, is't not?
Knowest now that this
is how a slave feels.

(DECKARD SPITS AT ROY AS HE FALLS; ROY GRABS HIM)

ROY: The things I have seen;
Folk believest them not.
Ships of war aflame
Against the night sky
Near the form of Orion,
that Great Greek Hunter!
Witnessed, I have, beams -
made of some sorcery -
glittering in the dark
at Tannhauser Gate...
Alas! Like tears in rain
These moments are lost.
My death is upon me.

(ROY HOISTS DECKARD TO SAFETY; ROY DIES)
posted by never used baby shoes at 9:28 AM on April 21 [3 favorites]

I signed up as well, but I'm not allowed in yet.

This absolutely needs to be performed. Even if it's just video clips on YouTube. And I suggest song breaks, with a band of minstrels performing "Thy Womanhood, My Lass, Thou should Embrace" and other appropriate tunes.
posted by cereselle at 9:48 AM on April 21

If Shakespeare clips on YouTube do ye seek,
Perhaps this play by Beckett will suffice;
For surely if a Rose must smell as sweet,
Its stench must be improvèd when 'tis twice.
posted by Sys Rq at 9:58 AM on April 21

HARRY CALLAHAN: Doubt not, I can p'ceive your hidden thoughts:
"Did five rounds fire he then, or were it six?"
A canny query; I should be remiss
to lie at having kept my count of shots.

But lo, this cannon resting in my hand,
Point four and four, from Magnum's fire was forged.
None matches it; no greater steel to scourge
The thieves and malefactors from the land.

Your head it could take meanly from your trunk,
And so a different query, pray advance:
Is Fortuna kind, that god of chance?
Is the will of luck with thee, O punk?
posted by cortex at 10:17 AM on April 21 [28 favorites]

They have a wiki now.
posted by empath at 10:35 AM on April 21

Dear empath, lo though you may use the pow'r
Of feeling things in everybody's head
To learn about the world and all its wicks
And keys as if thou art of Betazed,
It saddens me -- as I am sure you know --
That someone such as you can't scan the thread
To see what there is writ regarding wicks
Before reciting lines others have said.
posted by Sys Rq at 10:54 AM on April 21

HAN: I'm captain of a ship, the Thousands Hawk.
My hirsute engineer reports you need
Conveyance to the duchy Alderaan.

OBI-WAN: Indeed, if fast thy ship—

HAN: If fast? You dare?
You jest! The Hawk, a novelty to thee?

OBI-WAN: Should it not be?

HAN: Not it, but her, and hark!
With grace and guile she Kessel's Run endured,
And vessels of the Empire did evade!
Not skif or ketch, but dreadnoughts gilt and stern,
Corelli's naval masterpieces, spurned!
She's fast enough for thee, thou wrinkled mage.
But what wouldst thou employ me to transport?

OBI-WAN: Not what, but whom: my own self, and a boy.
And two machines of service—and pry not.

HAN: Of course; but whence this hush—

OBI-WAN: Suffice to say
We'd rather not Imper'ials intersect.
posted by cortex at 11:24 AM on April 21 [36 favorites]

Perchance thou has not kept abreast
With events of immediate recency
That pertain to this band of soldiers;
If that be the case, mayst I
Take this moment to bring illumination
Regards our current plight and circumstance:
Soundly kick'd hath been our asses,
By a foe of unknown provenance.
Prithee, do not suggest further action
At this time, my dear friend.
posted by never used baby shoes at 11:26 AM on April 21 [2 favorites]

TRAVIS BICKLE: Attend, o fornicators, maniacs.
Here's a man who would not tolerate
Anon this world, a man who stood against
The scum, the whores, the curs, the filth, the shite.
Here stands a man, and standing makes him such.
posted by cortex at 12:31 PM on April 21

[TRAVIS BICKLE stands before a looking glass, armed and speaking w/ his own reflect'd apparition]

BICKLE: Pray tell, come again? Come again, pray tell?

[From BICKLE's side is drawn a pistol]

BICKLE: Oh ho! Thou sluggard, stumping whoreson—thou—

I saw thee, oh—there's shit upon thy boot!

[BICKLE returns the pistol to his belt]

BICKLE: I stand here! I entreat thee, make thy move!
The move is thine to make; oh make thy move—

[Again, the pistol is produced]

BICKLE: Adventure not, you flithy scoundrel's son!

[The pistol is displaced to BICKLE's waist]

BICKLE: Thou speaks to me? Indeed, thou speaks to me?
You speaketh now to me, o dog? Who else
By Hell could hear your noisesome words but I?
I ask, I ask, you speak no words to me?
Perhaps to some third, hidden from our view?
I cannot see another in our midst.
To whom, I say, do fly your winging words?
Oh yea? Oh yea? To me, oh yea? Okay.

[Once more, the pistol comes forth.]
posted by cortex at 12:45 PM on April 21 [8 favorites]

Young Lad: What of yonder knot tied to that horse?
Teacher: O, I placed it near ye as a jest. 'Tis likely Creation's most confounding knot, pay it no mind.
Young Lad: What amount of pudding could we garner for its solution?
Teacher: No man hath ever solved this knot rightly, including mine mentor at Castle MIT. So mayhap if any of ye lads were to right that quandary, I would see that through eternity, the lot of you wouldst never again set foot in a barn again.
[Max looks up.]
Teacher: Max, dost thou wish to attempt unfoiling the knot?
Max: Apologies, my lord. Didst thou speak my name?
posted by mattbucher at 1:23 PM on April 21

Blume: Ye lads sally through life without cares. Mine youth lacked this pleasure. Yet I school my own offspring amidst ye. Pray God, whether ye deserveth it or not, you squires invite upon the finest tutelage in the land. Many of ye devil's urchins were born of gold and shall always enjoy thy father's wealth. But unto the others I say: draw a bead upon thy prosperous brothers. Gaze at them through the crosshairs of thine bow and quash them.
posted by mattbucher at 1:38 PM on April 21

MeTa.
posted by lostburner at 3:07 PM on April 21

A: WANTETH NOT!!!
posted by mr_crash_davis at 4:02 PM on April 21

CHORUS: In days of yore, a galaxy afar
Did host a struggle twixt a single clan.
The victors of a battle, having struck
From their Alliance's well-hidden base,
Did soundly beat the Empire's loyal hordes.

Yea, as the bloody battle carried on,
The agents of rebellion did abscond
With architectural cyanotypes
Which, when unraveled, did reveal a plan
For something spherical -- but not a moon --
With arsenal enough to raze a world.

As Leia's ship returned to lands familiar,
With soldiers of the Empire in her wake,
She kept with her the scrolls of sapphire paper...
posted by Sys Rq at 4:31 PM on April 21 [3 favorites]

Methinks ye shalt desire a larger vessel.
posted by Pantengliopoli at 4:35 PM on April 21

lands she knew; paper blue.
posted by Sys Rq at 4:35 PM on April 21

Thou know’st the circumstances nigh are foul.
I needest not proclaim our current state.
The market hast made paupers of us all,
Or else instill’d a fear of sim’lar fate.
A sheckle acts a pence, as does a pound,
The moneylenders shops board up their doors.
The baker keeps a sabre by his wares,
As streets are run by ruffians and whores.
Alas, interminable is out lot!
While none presents solution here to plot.

We choketh on the air as on the meat.
And listen to the crier thus announce:
“Our towns are plagued with murder and assault,”
As though he’d claimed an ounce is still an ounce.

The whole of us – we know our times are bad,
But worse than that, we know our times are mad.

So mad, this world, we leave our chambers not.
We roam our houses, lessen though our sphere,
Doth to quote, “This place I walk is mine,
I pray that I be unmolested here!”

But Hark! I shall not leave you undisturbed!

I wish to boil the blood beneath thy breast!

I do not seek a protest, nor unrest.
Nor thou to twist the earlobe of thine lord,
I knowest not the words with which to twist,
To such impugn the brandishing of swords,
Nor money’s feeble worth for purchase, nor
The threat of foreign en’mies at our shores.

All I knowest is this:
Foremost, thou must be angered!

Thou must proclaim, with blasphemy, thy worth!
Humanity bestowed upon thy birth!

So rise! From humble sitting-place, and nigh,
Throw out the nearest pane of glass and cry:

“With wrath from hell I proclaim, ‘No More!’”
posted by Navelgazer at 4:38 PM on April 21 [6 favorites]

Jimmie:
Did'st thou see with weary eye,
'pon mine own demesne signage clear
or crier hear tell the storie as thou drew'st near
of services offered within: Expired Moor Stowage?

Jules:
Nay, no such thing did we espy, but let me assuage thee --

Jimmie:
Knowest thou why it should be thus?

Jules:
Again, nay. Why mought it be that --

Jimmie:
Indeed, "nay"! For Expired Moor Stowage is not within my purview!
posted by boo_radley at 4:45 PM on April 21 [1 favorite]

t'were an invisible mariner, It seem'd
shot two bolts into our sides that eve
returning from the land of Tinian, we
just deliv'red the infernal machine

a thousand and a hundred went in
our vessel foundered in but a wink
Was naught but a bit but when
we saw the first fearful denizen

Oh, the awful secrets of that night
we huddled, afeared, at first light
Came the fiends, by hundreds and more
twas naught but shouts and gore

The awful beasts, the monsters
glared at us with eyes as a cold knaves heart
terrible dread beasts, they live naught
till, feeding, they slaver and rend thee

My companion, Herbie, the mate of our craft
was near me on the third day
I bid him to wake and found aghast
he were rendered unto twain

Five days we floated on the blood-red seas
when the miraculous succour came
A thousand and a hundred went in
but three hundred and a score lived at the end
posted by pjern at 4:52 PM on April 21 [5 favorites]

Agree strongly, infinitewindow. I ran out of steam on this, but I might pick it up tomorrow if work's slow.

If I may...

BLAKE: And now we discuss matters of great import! Unhand that mead! Mead is for the valiant alone. Thou thinkest that I jest? I jest not. I am here from town. I am here on the behest of Lord Mitch and Lord Murray. I am here on a mission most merciful. Thou art a son of Levene?

LEVENE: That I am.

BLAKE: Thou wouldst be a peddler of goods, worthless son of a cur?

LEVENE: I have no obligation to hear such filth.

BLAKE: 'Tis true, friend. Good tidings, thou hast no trade! Bad tidings, thou -- nay, all -- hath but seven sightings of the moon to regain thy trade, after this very eve. Ah, thou art rapt with interest, presently? 'Tis good. For much bounty is added to the contest. In your knowledge, the prize most coveted is a great steed of the title Eldorado. Would any amongst you have knowledge of the second? 'Tis a set of daggers, able in the rendering of flesh. And what of the third? The third is no trade! Now all is made most clear? Would mirth o'ercome you still? Thou hast leads. Lord Mitch and Lord Murray hath parted with most precious gold. Be mindful of their names to sell them! Thou maketh not opportune circumstance of this fine chance thou hast, thou maketh not opportune circumstance of offal, thou art offal; to the carriageway my friend, and be gone because you are gone!

LEVENE: The leads are weak.

BLAKE: "The leads are weak." Accursed leads are weak? Thou art weak. Fifteen summers in this enterprise I have seen.

MOSS: By what name art thou known?

BLAKE: A pox upon you, that is my title! Thou hast knowledge now? Thy steed is a frail and foreign beast; mine a champion of great worth. That is my title! And thine is desire. And thou joineth not in a contest of men. Thou canst bring the matter to an end. And then to home and to weep to thy wench of thy troubles. Because there is but one matter of import in this life! That they sign on the line that is dotted!
posted by Armitage Shanks at 5:02 PM on April 21 [2 favorites]

LYLE LANLEY: Dear friends, no thing on Earth compares to this,
A truly genuine electric train
With carriages who number six and glide
Upon a single elevated track!
If ye hath heard its name then do repeat!
NED FLANDERS: The Monorail!
LANLEY: By what name is it called?
PATTI & SELMA: The Monorail!
LANLEY: Forsooth, the Monorail!
MISS HOOVER: The noise it makes is deafening, I hear.
LANLEY: No louder than a cloud I promise you.
APU: But wouldst the single rail not bend in twain?
LANLEY: Bet not upon your Hindu life, kind sir.
BARNEY: We louts and drunkards, what have you for us?
LANLEY: Employment, sir, with not a speck of fuss.
ABE: You are an agent of Beelzebub!
LANLEY: I am but nothing if not leveled plumb.
CHIEF WIGGUM: It seems my can of pudding hath been broke!
LANLEY: You then may use my knife till it is ope'd.
This train of which I speak will save your town,
So reach up to your Lord and call him down!
ALL: The Monorail!
LANLEY: By what name is it called?
ALL: The Monorail!
LANLEY: Do call for it again!
ALL: The Monorail!
MARGE: What say you of the streets
Too ruinous and cracked even to use?
BART: Alas, dear mother, we have made our choice.
ALL: The Monorail! The Monorail!
HOMER: The Mon--!
posted by Sys Rq at 5:48 PM on April 21 [5 favorites]

JD: Evelyn, hast thou a moment?
For whom dost thou play?

E: With hesitance, I call myself a Peach.

JD: I only ask, for I couldst not discern,
For want of safety both for life and limb,
Wherefore thou wouldst have tossed the ball to home,
Whilst we have the advantage two run o’er.
The edge we held now rests on second base,
And lo, our lead is lost to scholar’s lore,
And on your own tongue lay the bitter taste.
And thus I do demand thou find your head,
Which layeth just a yardstick o’er your ass.

Evelyn whimpers

JD: Weepest thou?

E: I do not.

JD: Weepest thou? Weepest thou?!
Weepest not! Weepest not in sport!
To Roger Hornsby I was once in bind.
He claimest me a pile offal porcine,
But only that which had the power of speech,
At game at once attended by mine kind,
Who’d driven down from north to see me play
I pray you, did I weep upon that day?

E: You didst not!

JD: Forsooth, I did not! I did not!
Knowest wherefore?

E: Wherefore?

JD: Because one mustn’t weepest in sport!
Weepest not in sport!
posted by Navelgazer at 6:00 PM on April 21 [4 favorites]

CAPT. A dozen years have pass'd since this took place,
And all that time hath Parliament kept hid
The secret of this world, till River here
Unearth'd it from their minds. They feared she knew.
And right they were to dread, since many more
Among the spinning worlds would know it too.
And someone has to speak for those now dead.
For divers reasons did you join my crew
But all have come together to this place.
I've in the past demanded much of you.
Today I ask yet more; perhaps for all.
For this I know, as I know anything:
That they will try again. Another world
Will be the lab for this experiment.
Or maybe they will sweep this landscape clean
And in a year or ten attempt again.
They'll swing back like the needle to the north
To the belief that they can better men.
And I hold not to that. Here from this grave
I will not run. I aim to misbehave.

I cannot take credit for this.
posted by casarkos at 6:38 PM on April 21 [2 favorites]

I prefer to go for lighter sources of Shakes-portable content:

Bugs Bunny: Do I dare say this not be Pismo Beach?
Must I have turned err from Albuquerque!

Ted Striker: Prithee must there be something you can do.
Rumack: Tis all I can... and cease calling me Prithee.

The area thus painted white is destined for
Loading and unloading of passengers
Solely and with haste. There is no stopping
Within the area thus painted red.

Bart Simpson I am. Who in Hades thou?

Ralph: Ah, sweet slumber, where I a Viking be.

Comic Book Guy: Last eve's production was the worst play ever.
Be aware that I was, within the hour,
Nailing my theses on the theater door.

Homer: So how shalt thou respond now? Releasing
The hounds? Or the wasps? Or the hounds who keep
wasps in their mouths so that when they do bark,
They project the wasps at mine direction?
posted by wendell at 7:04 PM on April 21 [4 favorites]

Thou canst kiss my armoured posterior!

Stan: Oh thy deities! They hath drained away
The very life from the one called Kenny.
They from illegitimacy were born!

Agent: And what dost thou call this most motley troupe
Of performers of the most ghastly acts
Mine eyes have e'er seen?
Performer: Nobility, sire!
posted by wendell at 7:16 PM on April 21 [3 favorites]

Barney: And it shall become the stuff... but thou must
wait a certain time for it... of legend!

And wouldst I have succeeded in all my
Plotting and planning had I only not
Encountered you problemic juveniles!
And your sadly unschooled canine also!
posted by wendell at 7:25 PM on April 21

Ty: What use to me your words? Thou art with maidenhead--
and drove not.
Cher: Thus I am smote, Ty.
posted by kittyprecious at 7:57 PM on April 21

Thou will require a more commodious barque.
posted by pjern at 8:36 PM on April 21 [2 favorites]

J: Forsooth, my spirits are high today, Silent Bob.
We will earn some coin,
and then--canst thou discern our next act?
We shall repair to the tavern
and I shall commit lewd acts
on ANYTHING THAT SHOULD MOVE!
[to knave] What the fuck lookst thou at?
I'll thrust my knife in you! Shit yeah.
[to Silent Bob] That rogue owes me two crowns.
Wilt thou join me later this night?
We have no recourse
but to decapitate that whoreson,
and remove his fuckin' SOUL.
[to maidens] Greetings, harlots! Good day, WHORES!
posted by A dead Quaker at 9:46 PM on April 21 [3 favorites]

I can't possibly get away with not liking this, can I.
posted by tehloki at 1:23 AM on April 22

Didst thou ever tongue a male member?
Didst thou?
Gaze upon me, verily, and stay thy words.
Woman! Turn thyself around, and display thy posterior.
Didst thou ever tongue a male member?
Then demonstrate to me thy method
And show thine mouth whilst engaged.
I speak not in jest!
Oh, what pleasure thou derives
From fluid movements upon engorged manhood.
DEMONSTRATE THY METHOD, HARLOT!
GNUH!
posted by turgid dahlia at 2:18 AM on April 22

O truly am I a bad centurion!
Truly have I done so many bad things!!
WRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUU
posted by kittens for breakfast at 6:02 AM on April 22

iambs be dambed

NARRATOR. In the year of our Lord 1101,
there were the rumblings of strife
CAPTAIN. Be there anyone who can name for me
what possibly cause lie behind a tumult such as this?
BOATSWAIN. My lord, 'twere Lucifer's own fury
hath breached our hull!
LOOKOUT. from Crowe's nest We are hailed, good Captain.
CAPTAIN. Z'ounds!
LOOKOUT. We are boarded!
CAPTAIN. Thou cur!
KASIMIR. Greetings, good gentles, all.
KASIMIR. The whole of thy port have I seized.
KASIMIR. Thou wendest ill apace toward destruction.
CAPTAIN. Mine ears deceive me. Sayest thy piece yet again.
KASIMIR. Thy demise art assured as thou hadst already passed.
Gather thy thoughts whilst savoring thy final breath.
KASIMIR. Oh ho ho!
LOOKOUT. Captain!
CAPTAIN. Man the longboats!
CAPTAIN. My faith in thee, noble crew,
is second only to my faith in the Almighty himself.
CAPTAIN. Launch the longboats, fight to the last!
CAPTAIN. In the name of swift Vengeance and noble Judgment.

Whoo, look, it's a 12-year-old's conception of Shakespeare! I'm totally iamb-deaf; I can't hear them. No clue about anapests, either.
posted by Eideteker at 8:31 AM on April 22

Is this a wallet which I see before me, o bad mother fucker?
posted by quin at 8:41 AM on April 22

SysRq -- What would you call a pre-steam-punk Star Wars? WaterwheelPunk?
posted by PlusDistance at 8:43 AM on April 22

I'm glad someone linked to this from MetaTalk! Otherwise I would have lost it to a long weekend of goofing off and Law and Order marathons. Unfortunately, it looks like most of Pulp Fiction has been done, so...

In the System over which the Lady
Justice presides, there exists two groups pair'd.
Seperate yet equal, each twin duty
Is tasked to representatives most fair.
One is the Police, brave flatfooted cops
Whose constant work and investigation
In rooting out criminals only stops
With evidence for an accusation.
When accusation time comes the next group,
The District Attorneys, take up the case.
Their honor'd duty is to prosecute
The offenders to keep our fair streets safe.
Now listen closely to the actors' script
of tales from headlines most untimely ripped.

(BUM BUM)
posted by robocop is bleeding at 8:47 AM on April 22 [4 favorites]

I'm too lazy to make up an entire sonnet, so here's a verse.

Cat: What ho, mine eye doth spy a toothsome dish
All full of meat and hearty goodwife's cheese
My bowl be full of food, and yet I wish
For viands more elaborate than these
Mistake me not for some unwanted cur,
But hear me well-- I can haz cheeseburger?
posted by cereselle at 9:15 AM on April 22 [2 favorites]

Now takest up ye all that's good, and ill,
And sundry else that doth existence fill:
And there thou hast the 'herent facts of life.

And when the world's potential doth not meet
the wantings of your heart and visions sweet,
Discover, lo: life's facts, your unasked wife.
posted by cortex at 9:19 AM on April 22 [2 favorites]

LA'LCHEEZ'EDBURGER
posted by ormondsacker at 9:27 AM on April 22

New (public) wiki for these.
posted by cereselle at 9:28 AM on April 22

Wesley, shut thine mouth
before I have the mighty
Kling warrior leap over
yon railing and,
with his pistol of fire and light,
shut it for thee.
posted by WCityMike at 9:59 AM on April 22

Prince George: Brownie, the skill with which thou performed the job I commanded thee resembled the very skill of Hades.
posted by WCityMike at 10:12 AM on April 22

The starr'd expanse, that last and great frontier;
In this, the good ship Enterprise does sail
with five-year pact to planets weird explore;
to seek out novel life and cultures hail;
to boldly go where none have gone before.
posted by infinitewindow at 10:13 AM on April 22 [1 favorite]

We shall serenade
as we march valiantly forward;
We shall serenade ...

I am tumbled to the floor,
but I right myself;
nay, you shall never lay
me flat,

The night passes
whilst I find relief from mead ...

The night passes
whilst I find relief from mead ...

Yon man, he drinks whiskey,
he drinks the foul spirits of the north,
he drinks the spirits of the Irish,
he drinks the spirits of pressed apples.
He sings those songs which
remind him of good times past,
He sings those songs which
remind him of wondrous times past.

Oh, Daniel, Daniel ...

I am tumbled to the floor,
but I right myself;
nay, you shall never lay
me flat ...
posted by WCityMike at 10:18 AM on April 22

KHAN (offstage) Now, Terrell. Kill him now.

Terrell, struggling, stabs self. Chekov screams, horribly, drops his dagger, clutching his
head. Bones leaps to his side.

BONES: ‘Zwounds!

They rush to his side, as do Carol and David. From the fallen man's ear, something begins to emerge. The Ceti eel crawls out. It has grown quite large. Horror from all. Kirk picks up a dagger. As the eel clears Chekov, he stabs it. He shudders, then sees the wrist token and grabs it.

KIRK: O Khan, thou foulest villain!!
Your own dirty work you must now attend.
Dost thou hear me?! Dost thou?!?

KHAN (offstage): Kirk! Kirk, you're still alive -
Mine old companion.

KIRK: Still, old companion.
Though thou hast slain most everyone else.
But, a poor marksman, thou miss and miss the target.

KHAN: Perhaps I need no longer try.

In the rocky cavern the transporter beam locks on to the Genesis torpedo and it's arming control box. As Kirk and the other watch, horrified, Khan beams up the materials. David tries to reach the torpedo, but Saavik holds him fast -

DAVID: No! He must not have it!

The beam disappears and Genesis with it, leaving them alone.

KIRK: Khan, O Khan. Villain! Thou hast Genesis...
But thou hast not me!
Thou aimed to slay me, O Khan!
Thou must approach to do the deed!
Thou must approach!

KHAN: I have done far worse than kill you.
I have hurt you. And I would go on hurting you.
I shall leave you as you left me –
... as you left her. Marooned for all eternity
in bowels of dead rock-
Buried alive!
Buried alive!

KIRK: Khan!
posted by COBRA! at