Two Gentlemen of Lebowski

[Meister]

One day quite recently a screenwriter was bored and decided he would re-write The Big Lebowski in the style of a William Shakespeare play. The rest is quite rapidly becoming history.

He put the whole thing online less than a week ago and it's already caused a bit of a stir. The first offer to produce the play came in the same day, the first publishing offer one day after, and about now the press is starting to catch onto it. I read it a few days ago and it was extremely funny. I would feel uncomfortable not doing my part spreading the word.

Two Gentlemen of Lebowski

An excerpt.

WALTER
I pray thee, speak not of marriage; for here a man calleth vinegar the wine he hath not himself imbibed.
The cur is one of consequence, admired
In circles of husbandry, with well-noted
Documentation of his qualities;
And if ‘twere spook’d, it might lose hide and hair.
The cur hath parchments—

THE KNAVE
Hark, now bowls Jack Smoke.

WALTER
Thou cross’st the line!

JACK SMOKE
Your pardon, noble sir?

WALTER
Thou cross’st 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.

JACK SMOKE
Peace, Sir Walter!

WALTER
Smokey, this be not the foul jungles of the darkest East Orient. This be ninepins. We are bound by laws.

THE KNAVE
Nay, Walter; the quality of mercy is hardly strain’d. But a fraction of his toe tripp’d over the line, not God’s line but man’s. Of late I have read much of toe-nails, meaningful, I grant thee, but of doubtable value. Suit the punishment to the action, and shame not Smoke in sport.

WALTER
O unrightful judge!
This forfeiture is set in iron law
As drawn by great authority of league.
One roll might well determine that our side
Advance to glory; or be instead retired
As moss upon a tree-stump, while the Smoke
Drifts out to glorious summer. Canst thou hear
The call of robin redbreasts? If robin shall
Restore amends, we must serve justice
Here. Be I wrong?

JACK SMOKE
Yea, but—

WALTER
Be I wrong?

JACK SMOKE
Thy words are hard; I must equivocate.
Put up thy pen, that I may mark it eight.

WALTER
Nay! I do protest, and draw my sword;
It shall teach thee to disobey my word.
Mark none but none into that bowler’s frame,
Else thou shalt enter into a world of pain.
A world of pain, think upon’t; unhappy world!
A lake of fire, rich with damnèd souls,
Gulfs of anguish ‘twixt vales of agonies.
Mark me; we stand at twisted, jealous gates
Of cast-iron, above which, in vulgar tongue, reads
“Here is a world of pain, thou enterest thus.”
My steel before thee, ‘tis the last of keys
That might could lock these doors, and keep thee
From this world of pain, or with one flick
Ope its mashing maw, and summon winds
To cast thee down within; an excellent key!
Farewell to earthly delights, farewell to friends,
To fellowships and follies and amends.
The choice to spare thy passage through these trials
Is thine alone; take heed, I entreat thee,
And turn thy back upon this world of pain!