[Enter JOSHUA QUINCE and LIAM O’BRIEN]
QUINCE
Hail, masters! I crave thine able readiness
To be dealt with roughly, as the Sodomites.
For men of sport have noted that our play
In semifinal hour draws on apace.
By Jove! I’ll wager well, Liam and me,
To thrash thee soundly at the fair tourney.
THE KNAVE
Yea, well, that be, forsooth, thy opinion, sir.
QUINCE
Well; but be forewarn’d. It reach’d mine ears
That combustible Walter, o’ercome with rage
Did shed good sense, and raise his sword in play.
I fear not such jade’s tricks, an seeing ill,
Would snatch the burden from the jealous knight
And pierce his gizzard with the wrongful steel,
Points up, as said of Coriolanus.
THE KNAVE
Zounds!
QUINCE
Thou speakest rightly, sir. No man misdeals with Joshua Quince, by Jesu.
[Exeunt QUINCE and O’BRIEN]
WALTER
Nay, fear him not, nor his unworthy joys.
Recall the tragic tale of the pageboys.
[Exeunt WALTER and DONALD]
Thursday, January 7, 2010
INDEED! "A POX UPON'T!" 'TIS YOUR ANSWER TO EVERYTHING. YOUR MERRY REVELS HAVE ENDED, SIR. CONDOLENCES. THE ROGUES LOST; THE ROGUES HAVE ALWAYS LOST, WILL ALWAYS LOSE, AND SO IT WILL BE TOMORROW AND TOMORROW AND TOMORROW: Circulating around the Internets today -- Two Gentlemen of Lebowski -- The Dude's tale, had it been written by Shakespeare. An excerpt, after the break:
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Versaute Amateure
Forsooth, it seems the tale be o'ertold:
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Hmm. I just got in. From Act 2, Scene 3:
ReplyDeleteDONALD
The jousts and games of sport continue on;
The looming tourney plans are posted high
And stand recorded in this schedule writ.
WALTER
Donald, hold thy tongue—no, stay, I err.
When do they set our match of open air?
DONALD
Faith, we face Joshua Quince and the Irishman this very Saturday.
WALTER
Saturday! Unhappy fortune. Something was forgotten in the state of office. A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanac; find a date uncancell’d by destiny. What manner of fool is he that scheduled this date? I did take pains to disclose my unavailability.
DONALD
Marry, ‘twas Burkhalter.
WALTER
A German, all slops, or low Dutch; thrice I made him to know that I roll not on Saturday.
DONALD
But posted it be; what’s done cannot be undone.
WALTER
They shall unpost it, by my life!
THE KNAVE
I care not, Walter—what of that poor woman?
WALTER
Peace, Knave; she will tire of her little game anon, and wander back in the manner of the punished cur, tail between her legs.
DONALD
Wherefore thou playest not at ninepins on Saturday, Sir Walter?
WALTER
On our most holy Sabbath I am sworn
To keep tradition, form and ceremony.
The seventh and the last day rests the Jew;
I labour not, nor ride in chariot,
Nor handle gold, nor even play the cook,
And sure as Providence I do not roll.
Hath not a Jew rights? Hath not a Jew hands,
Organs, bowling-balls, Pomeranians?
If you schedule us, must you not do right?
If we step o’er the line, do we not mark it nought?
The Sabbath; I’ll roll not, God-a-mercy.
There's a mirror site with the pdf if the main site is still overloaded:
ReplyDeletehttp://cender.net/f/files/lebowski.pdf
This thing really is excellent:
WALTER
Thou cross't the line, Jack Smoke, O cavalier,
As clearly demarcated in our rules,
In tumbling past the throw. 'Tis play most foul.
JACK SMOKE
But see the pins struck down in fair play's course!
Knave, mark thou mine eight pins; mark it eight.
WALTER
Not eight but l'ouef; you'll mark it nought, O Knave,
And so we carry on to the next frame.
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