American Idle

What if the Bard had written the Big Lebowski?

THE KNAVE:
It was of consequence, I should think; verily, it tied the room together, gather’d its qualities as the sweet lovers’ spring grass doth the morning dew or the rough scythe the first of autumn harvests. It sat between the four sides of the room, making substance of a square, respecting each wall in equal harmony, in geometer’s cap; a great reckoning in a little room. Verily, it transform’d the room from the space between four walls presented, to the harbour of a man’s monarchy.

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.

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.

Brilliant! Fucking brilliant! (a little more after the fold)

[Outside LEBOWSKI’s castle. Enter THE KNAVE (with a Persian rug) and BRANDT]

BRANDT
I pray you, Knave, remember us in future visitations.

THE KNAVE
Faith, surely when next I travel in this neighbourhood, I will call upon his lordship’s good honour, and beseech his refreshment.

[Enter BONNIE LEBOWSKI and OLIVER]

BONNIE
[sings]“With toe-nails of verdant and forester’s green
With a hey-nonny-no and a hey-nonny-nonny
Blow thrice on my toe-nails and I’ll be thy queen
And ever preserve me as thine, blithe and Bonnie.”

[to THE KNAVE]
I pray you, sir, blow.

THE KNAVE
Marry! But here’s a lady of good interest, whose toe-nails are the very green of the common hump, where grass doth grow and where country lovers do foot. Whither shall I blow, maid? For I am but a traveling tumbleweed, and may well be carried by any wind, e’en south.

BONNIE
I mean only the wind in thine own maw in this case; blow, then, serve your turn and cool my hot temper.

THE KNAVE
Sayst thou that I must blow upon thy foot, painted lady?

BONNIE
I ask this deed of you thrice now; and that which a damsel craves constantly is the service of a tongue most moved in capability. Look to my foot; I cannot reach that far. Blow, wind!

THE KNAVE
I fear thy charms. Will not thy consort mind
If I bestow his lady fair my wind?

BONNIE
Nay, there’s naught for which Oliver carest;
He mindeth not, for he’s a nihilist.

BRANDT
Our court’s noble guest must not tarry, Lady Lebowski.

THE KNAVE
Lady Lebowski? Then thou art Bonnie? A merry wife indeed!

BONNIE
And a lady of good housekeeping and agriculture besides, minded to economy and all practicalities. Were thou to bring a gentle cock to mine bed-chamber, I might help him to success for ten shillings.

THE KNAVE
Such a lady of talents I have scarcely seen.

BRANDT
Yes, a most forthright jest! Free of spirit and good generosity, she is the nimble nymph of Neptune, and we mark her with good humour.

BONNIE
Free of spirit but ne’er free for flesh. Were I to regale thee with parts of my humour, I would not bid Brandt hear the play ere he paid a shilling himself.

BRANDT
Hark, a marvelous jest; but, I pray you, we dare not tarry. Come, Knave.

THE KNAVE
Yea, I shall come, and then return with money,
Or lose the labour’d love of fair Bonnie.

[Exeunt]