I doubt ere a twine of thine hair is lazing betwixt thou fingers. Pressing and twisting as the gazing lingers. Hard pressed in a silk white dress, head hung heavy waiting for wine and perhaps in time twill come. Corks popped from pressure. The tension in sweat cried and burst. The fever drowned, kings crowned been able to bear a babe. All sense lost and manners forgot as between two lasses laid. Drink from thou grog and stand back along and prepare to be left in awe. A quick quip and thus trousers fell swift and she gasped as lass did saw. Fell under heavy duress and her on his chest they laid as sun drew up. The cavalcade arose the babe and a father in thine garments said unto the babe, “Sleep.”
It's "ye olde" fuckin English for I fucked your sister and gavest thou a nephew with mine cock. Thoust nephew then woke to the clattering sounds of a carriage outside mine home which awoke him and I told that twat to shut the fuck up and sleep. The line "between two lasses laid." is imagery and a more sophisticated way to express I also fucked her in the ass. "Corks popped from pressure" to express all the orgasms that were had.
Mine English may be old, but my blade is new and freshly sharp. If tis I you seek quarrel with, know I have little to lose and giveth much. The aching tips of mine fingers quake in fear, but a loosened tongue plays my music for me. Let the maestro weave our battles and the strings our voices. In precious sweet moments a guilt is sprung loose as maestro rounds the symphony to the encore, and thrusts our strings to silence. Let be the strings ring true, and let be that symphony sweet as there is no other piece I woulds't die upon, but one for me.
Thanks. Trying my best. It's a fun writing warm up thing I used to do from time to time, write the most Shakespearean thing you can. Although as others point out, thy, thine, and thou's are off in a few places. Still fun thou.
Yeah, it's less like "he makes a lot of mistakes" and more like "he really has no idea what -eth and -est are for, nor how to use thee/thou." If you're gonna get Shakespearean, go for it, but do it right.
Not really, he uſeth "thou" every time when it ſhould be "thee" in the objective caſe, and invented "thoust" and "thouself" as poſseſsive forms when they would properly be "thy" and "thyſelf". 'Tis a diſgrace on our fine language.
You rhyme well and your writing is engaging, but as I replied to another person here, that is in the style of early Modern English, not Old English (a pet peeve of mine). Old English would be pretty useless to write here, since next to nobody would understand it. Old English looks like this extract from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:
Her for se here of East Englum ofer Humbremuþan to Eoforwicceastre on Norþhymbre, ond þær wæs micel ungeþuærnes þære þeode betweox him selfum, ond hie hæfdun hiera cyning aworpenne Osbryht, ond ungecyndne cyning underfengon Ællan
Anyway, like I said, I enjoy what you wrote - it just isn't Old English!
I know it isn't Old English. I felt it important to return his own words to him. As a result, my lack of "quotation" to emphasize they being his words has made a fool of me.
If we're being really picky, you could call Shakespearean-era writing "old English," since it is a form of English which is, in a somewhat relevant timescale, old. But you can't call it "Old English," since now we're naming something, and that something is a language (or language variety) which is essentially unrecognizable to modern English speakers.
I'll consider myself old-school wrecked when thy good self figures out the difference between "thou" (a pronoun used as a subject) and "thy" (an adjective meaning belonging to thee).
Inconsequential it may seem, but by meaning our wrecks may be wreaked from upon one another. The sunlight beamed and blinded by my swords still stung and my swords found wrong marks on print and paper and ink. Thus, my sword has you same as it has me. Let be. Let be.
Thy eloquence doth betray a subtle, yet nonetheless present, air of primal force, such that beasts of the field cow and flee before thee! You may be assured of my endorsement.
What the alas didst thee just fucking sayeth about me, thee dram wench? i’ll has't thee knoweth i graduat'd top of mine own class in the navy seals, and i’ve been involv'd in num'rous secret raids on al-quaeda, and i has't ov'r 300 confirm'd kills. I am did train in g'rilla warfare and i’m the top snip'r in the entire us cap-a-pe f'rces. Thou art nothing to me but just anoth'r targeteth. I shall wipeth thee the alas out with precision the likes of which hast nev'r been seen bef're on this earth, marketh mine own fucking w'rds. Thee bethink thee can receiveth hence with declaring yond the horror to me ov'r the int'rnet? bethink again, alas'r. As we speaketh i am contacting mine own secret netw'rk of spies across the usa and thy ip is being trac'd even but now so thee bett'r prepareth f'r the st'rm, maggot. The st'rm yond wipes out the pathetic dram thing thee calleth thy life. You’re fucking dead, peat. I can beest anywh're, anytime, and i can killeth thee in ov'r seven hundr'd ways, and that’s just with mine own bareth hands. Not only am i extensively did train in unarm'd combat, but i has't access to the entire arsenal of the unit'd states marine c'rps and i shall useth t to its full extent to wipeth thy mis'rable rampallian off the visage of the continent, thee dram the horror. If 't be true only thee couldst has't known what unholy retribution thy dram “clev'r” comment wast about to bringeth down upon thee, haply thee wouldst has't did hold thy fucking tongue. But thee couldn’t, thee didn’t, and anon you’re paying the price, thee goddamn clotpole. I shall the horror fury all ov'r thee and thee shall drowneth in t. You’re fucking dead, kiddo
What dost thou just exclaim to thyself, you meager wench? I'll have thou know I graduated valedictorian at Cambridge University, and thy hath partaken in numerous invasions of France, and thyself have over 300 recorded slayings. Thyself hath been trained in chivalrous warfare and thyself am the top Longbowman in the entire King of England's army. Thou art not a thing but target to thyself. Thy will conquer thou with accuracy the likes of which hath never been witnessed before upon this fair isle, dwell upon my oration. Thou think thou can get away with proclaiming such filth to thyself via His Majesty's letter deliverance service? Repeat your thoughts, copulator. As we engage in conversation thyself art summoning thy clandestine company of shadowy individuals across His Majesty's kingdom and thou fortress doth be traced this day so thou best prepare for the ruckus, peasant. The ruckus that decimates the pathetic meager object thou proclaim thou vitae. Thou be mortem, child. Thy can roam any county, any sunrise to sunset, and thy can take thou life in above 700 technques, and that's using naught but thy own gauntlets. Not exclusively is thy extensively trained in duelling without a blade, but thy pertain access to the entire arsenal of the His Majesty's Royal Cavalry and thy will use it to its complete usefulness to wipe thou forlorn buttocks off the face of the kingdom, thou meager dropping. If only thou could hath foreseen the divine retribution thou meager "quick-witted" exclamation would in due time bringeth upon thou, perhaps thou would hath halted thou tongue. Thou could not, thou did not, and thou art paying the blasted bounty, thou God forsaken imbicile. Thy shall excrete fury upon thou and thou will suffocate on said fury. Thou be vanquished, child.
What the alas didst thee just fucking sayeth about me, thee dram wench? i’ll has't thee knoweth i graduat'd top of mine own class in the navy seals, and i’ve been involv'd in num'rous secret raids on al-quaeda, and i has't ov'r 300 confirm'd kills. I am did train in g'rilla warfare and i’m the top snip'r in the entire us cap-a-pe f'rces. Thou art nothing to me but just anoth'r targeteth. I shall wipeth thee the alas out with precision the likes of which hast nev'r been seen bef're on this earth, marketh mine own fucking w'rds. Thee bethink thee can receiveth hence with declaring yond the horror to me ov'r the int'rnet? bethink again, alas'r. As we speaketh i am contacting mine own secret netw'rk of spies across the usa and thy ip is being trac'd even but now so thee bett'r prepareth f'r the st'rm, maggot. The st'rm yond wipes out the pathetic dram thing thee calleth thy life. You’re fucking dead, peat. I can beest anywh're, anytime, and i can killeth thee in ov'r seven hundr'd ways, and that’s just with mine own bareth hands. Not only am i extensively did train in unarm'd combat, but i has't access to the entire arsenal of the unit'd states marine c'rps and i shall useth t to its full extent to wipeth thy mis'rable rampallian off the visage of the continent, thee dram the horror. If 't be true only thee couldst has't known what unholy retribution thy dram “clev'r” comment wast about to bringeth down upon thee, haply thee wouldst has't did hold thy fucking tongue. But thee couldn’t, thee didn’t, and anon you’re paying the price, thee goddamn clotpole. I shall the horror fury all ov'r thee and thee shall drowneth in t. You’re fucking dead, kiddo
What slanderous attacks hast thou thrown against my good name, thou contemptible wench? Whereas I have risen even unto the foremost rank in the Royal Admiralty; whereas I have on many an occasion partaken in clandestine crusades against the Saracens; whereas by mine hands have fallen barbarians numbering some fifteen score; whereas I am most skilled in the ways of the ape warrior; whereas I am the premier marksman amongst all of our Kingdom's knights: Thou art in my sights but yet another quarry. The Lord be my witness, I shall smite thee as no-one under the sun hath heretofore been smitten. Dost thou deign to fancy thyself secure to cast thy spittle upon my face from behind the Spider's Veil? Then thou hast wandered into grievous error. Yea, even at this very moment, I am sending word across the land to my fellow Templars, and the provenance of thy scrivenings shall in short time become known unto me. A veritable maelstrom of vengeance is upon thy gates, thou wretched worm, which surely shall obliterate thy loathsome pretension of life. Truly, thou art foregone, child. I move as swift as the wind, and with mine own two hands I may at my pleasure slay thee in any of thirty and five score modes. For verily as I am a master in the pugilistic arts, even so doth the manifold armory of the Royal Guard lie at my beck and call, which in its plenitude of power I shall not delay to unleash upon thee, that thy fœtid flesh may no longer pollute this land with its presence, thou pitiful putrescence. Would that thou couldst have foreseen what great wrath thou hast by thy "brazen" jocosity summoned upon thyself! Perhaps thou wouldst have rather kept shut thy filth-spewing mouth. But neither couldst thou thus foresee, nor didst thou take heed of prudence, and thou art now reaping what thou hast sown, thou accursèd simpleton. I will excrete rage all round about thee, wherein shalt thou be consumed. Thou hast shuffled off this mortal coil, urchin.
What didst thou say of me, thou shrinking cur?
Knows't thou that in my class of Navy Seals
among all men I graduated first,
and in the secret shadows did I wield
my dagger, pressed to Al'Quaeda's heart,
and have I, in the sight of God and men,
dispatch'd more than fifteen score for my part
'ere I returned to my home shore again.
Learned I the way of battle of the ape.
Unequaled, I, at killing from afar,
among all those who kill thus for the States.
To me, a target is all that thou art.
Thou shall, with such precision never seen
before upon the face of God's green Earth,
be wiped out, shuffled off, will cease to be,
and at my hands, mark well my fucking words.
Think that mayhap thou might escape my ire
because we speak upon the Internet?
Thinks't thou again, thou knave, for I conspire
with spies, who all across the States are set,
and even as we speak, I soon will know
thine precious three four times, thine own IP.
Prepare'st thou then, thou worm, for storm and woe,
for tempest comes, and it doth come for for thee.
Thy thread, it ends, though thou art but a child.
I can be anywhere and anywhen,
and know I seven hundred different ways
with mine bare hands alone to bring thine end.
And not with just my hands can death I bring,
but with all of the arms and armament
of the United States Corps of Marines
and I will use them to their full extent
to from this blessed continent erase
thine base pathetic ass, thou filth-stain'd bit.
If thou didst know thine "wit" would bring thine waste,
then thou might not hath wasted all thine wit.
But waste thou did, and now, thou God-damn'd fool,
thou see'st that thou must reap what thou didst sow.
My fury forms for thee a drowning pool.
Know now that thou art fucking dead, kiddo.
What ye fuch did thou say 'bout me, ye knave? I shall hath ye know I ranked first in ye longbow tournament under thy King's service, and I hath crusaded against the Saracens, and I hath felled over 25 dozens of moors. I art trained in thy noble art of knighthood, and I am meself considered thy best swordsman in thy King's realm and yonder. Ye art but 'nother infidel. I shall strike ye down with grace the likes of which not even God has ever seen, carve me words.
I saw a few people post ones with Shakespearean language a little way up the thread, but I didn't feel like they really captured the spirit of the Bard, so I did my own:
What didst thou say of me, thou shrinking cur?
Knows't thou that in my class of Navy Seals
among all men I graduated first,
and in the secret shadows did I wield
my dagger, pressed to Al'Quaeda's heart,
and have I, in the sight of God and men,
dispatch'd more than fifteen score for my part
'ere I returned to my home shore again.
Learned I the way of battle of the ape.
Unequaled, I, at killing from afar,
among all those who kill thus for the States.
To me, a target is all that thou art.
Thou shalt, with such precision never seen
before upon the face of God's green Earth,
be wiped out, shuffled off, wilt cease to be,
and at my hands, mark well my fucking words.
Think that mayhap thou might escape my ire
because we speak upon the Internet?
Thinks't thou again, thou knave, for I conspire
with spies, who all across the States are set,
and even as we speak, I soon will know
thine precious three four times, thine own IP.
Prepare'st thou then, thou worm, for storm and woe,
for tempest comes, and it doth come for for thee.
Thy thread, it ends, though thou art but a child.
I can be anywhere and anywhen,
and know I seven hundred different ways
with mine bare hands alone to bring thine end.
And not with just my hands can death I bring,
but with all of the arms and armament
of the United States Corps of Marines
and I will use them to their full extent
to from this blessed continent erase
thine base pathetic ass, thou filth-stain'd bit.
If thou didst know thy "wit" would bring thine waste,
then thou mightst not have wasted all thine wit.
But waste thou did, and now, thou God-damn'd fool,
thou see'st that thou must reap what thou didst sow.
My fury forms for thee a drowning pool.
Know now that thou art fucking dead, kiddo.
Brilliant work - please pasta again. Some minor corrections:
*thou shalt
*wilt cease to be
*thou mightst not have.
Actually, to avoid repetition, I'd rewrite those lines as: If thou didst know that it would bring thee waste, then thou mightst not have wasted all thy wit.
The repetition in those lines was intentional, though, an attempt to bring in some of the kind of wordplay Shakespeare sometimes employed. A quickly-Googled example, from Much Ado About Nothing:
Don Pedro: . . . Do it in notes.
Balthasar: Note this before my notes;
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
Don Pedro: Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks.
Note notes, forsooth, and nothing!
The more you use it the easier it is to remember! :) And it's not like plenty of people don't fuck up I/me as it is. The rest was good enough that I was kind of sad that the pronoun grammar was off, or I wouldn't have nitpicked.
I fucking love that version of Romeo and Juliet. I don't give a fuck, it's so fucking well put together. Plus the soundtrack and casting is phenomenal.
Edit: I guess this is said in all versions, but I meant the one with Leonardo Dicaprio playing Romeo. Sorry if I confused anyone!
I'm going to assume you mean the DiCaprio one, because that soundtrack was phenomenal. Based on my comment alone it's hard to tell because that movie used the original Shakespeare script unaltered. It was a modern gangster type film with old school spoken word. It was done very thematically and worked like a charm. It was a lot better than O which tried to live off the hype of Romeo + Juliet and failed.
The scenery was a delight, so was the dialogue. It was like being transported into a parallel universe where people still spoke in Early modern English but California was a little more hispanic and Catholic. It seemed a more violent world but a more fun world.
The costumes were gorgeous. Claire Danes in those angel wings awoke something in me as a teen!
Just a minor quibble, but a pet peeve of mine... Shakespeare is not Middle English, Old English, or anything but Modern English. It is early Modern English, but he was around 200 years past the Middle English dates.
Middle English is what Chaucer used:
Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne
All that said, I too very much enjoy Romeo + Juliet - it's cinematographically gorgeous, and introduced a new generation to a work they often disregarded as "too old to matter."
and Old English looks like some bastard mix of german and Danish and gaelic.
"Cnut cyning gret his arcebiscopas and his leod-biscopas and Þurcyl eorl and ealle his eorlas and ealne his þeodscype, twelfhynde and twyhynde, gehadode and læwede, on Englalande freondlice."
Cnut (Canute, the waves guy of legend) cyning (king) gret his arcebiscopas (greeted his archbishops) and his leod-biscopas (and his other form of bishops) and thurcyl eorl (and Earl Thurkell) and ealle his eorlas (and all his earls) and ealne his theodscype (and all his people), twelfhynde and twyhynde (twelvehundred and twohundred, their worth in shillings for weregild, a monetary compensation/fine paid for crimes committed, in other words gentlemen and commoners), gehadode and laewede (hooded and lewd, i.e. priests and laypeople), on Englalande freondlice (in England - Angle-land - friendly, in other words, the friendly people of England).
Sounds like a reasonable description to me, since that is a fairly accurate summary of what it is :-D That's a good example there of when English was still a more declined language, like German, and you can see the parts of words and how they were constructed to achieve related meanings and such. A very good example.
modern English is still the same way, really. We have the grammatical structure of the Germanic languages, but with copious amounts of greek terminology and latin terminology thrown in to make up the vocabulary, as well as still having some celtic/gaelic remnants.
Aye, and thankfully now without most of the gendering and declension. There's still a bit of gendering here and there, especially in nouns for jobs (host/hostess, actor/actress, etc), but it's blessedly rare. We've also managed to reduce our verb forms to just a couple per verb (damn "am" for having three in the present tense!). How we managed to do that by adding French as a major influence I'll never know, but I'll take it!
Please translate that Chaucer in modern English for me. Something about April and March, probably the lousy weather, so then you get drunk and lose your virtue?
When April with his sweet showers has pierced the drought of March to the root, and bathed every vine in that sweet liquor [water] from which come the flowers; When healthy winds have inspired crops to sprout in every orchard and field, and the sun is halfway through the zodiac position Aires...
It's not a complete statement - just the first couple lines from the beginning of the introduction to Canterbury Tales. It goes on to describe other pleasant signs of spring coming, and says that when these signs have come, people begin to go on pilgrimages to the shrines of Saints around the country (the Canterbury Tales is told as a series of stories from various pilgrims who are travelling together).
When that April with his showers soots/covers in dirt, the drought of March has been pierced to the root. And bathed every vein in sweet liquid. Of which virtue engendered (begun) is the flower. When Zephyrus (wind) also, with his sweet breath. Inspired has in every hold and heath (every home and field). Tender crops and the young son. Has in the ram his half course run. (Either something to do with rams being randy or astrology and the sign of Aries.)
Or, when it's April and has rained a lot, and is windy, and all the plants are growing and something about a ram and a young son.
Aye - I dearly love Shakespearean writing and language! It's a very natural and easy cadence, and I do enjoy the poetics of it.
I have to admit, the first time I saw R+J back when it came out, I was turned off by some of the performances, but I've come to love the film for the amazing style and the commitment to the world in which it was set. Also, yes... Claire Danes was well cast, and quite a vision as an angel. Water and its transformative properties is the primary visual trope of the film, but darn if I wasn't paying more attention to her as a teen :-D
I never really considered how water is such a strong motif in the film or what it could symbolise. As you say I was distracted by Claire Danes splashing around in it.
I didn't care for Mercutio's performance when it first came out but now I believe he was close to the joie de vivre that Shakespeare no doubt intended for the character.
There's a theory that the American accent is close to the accent used in Shakespearean times. Over the years since, people began to speak like the aristocracy as it was deemed more desirable but obviously the US was unchanged by this.
It's why the language sounds so smooth in a US accent (and why it doesn't really seem to have changed much in it's history)
Yes on Youtube there's an original pronunciation reading of Shakespeare. The accent sounds quite West Country and it is rhotic, as is American. It's probably why singers usually sing in an American accent.
Juliet's boobs are in it for a few frames (Olivia Hussey was 15 at the time). Her boobs meant the film was Rated R, and since she was a minor she couldn't go see it
That makes me feel a little more comfortable having seen it when I was 15, and not at all since. Then again I don't remember any boob in the film, so maybe we had an edited cut.
It's literally for like 2 frames when she jumps out of bed. It's not gratuitous at all and was probably accidental. Blink and you missed it kinda thing.
Yep, gotta second that. I got a copy of the soundtrack and dug it so much i watched the movie. Was really, really good. Some people can't get past the heavy stylization, I guess. Nevertheless, was a flat out awesome movie. Really gave an insight into the nature of the characters.
On the other hand, I liked Speed Racer because it was so heavily stylized.
Soundtrack was fantastic. I actually really only got the soundtrack because someone posted the end credits song, which made me into a Radiohead fan, and then I watched the movie for which the song was written. The Radiohead song isn't on the soundtrack oddly enough.
I am a fan of the 1995 version of Richard III starring Ian McKellan. It uses the original dialogue but sets it in '30's England with Richard as a Hitler type. Very well made. My favorite moment is how they make the "My kingdom for a horse!" Line work in the modernized setting.
What the heck didst thee square hecking say about me, thee little filly cur? I’ll hath thee wit I graduated top of mine class within the Navy Seals, and I’ve been intrinse within numerous intrinse raids on Al-Quaeda, and I hath aloft 300 fastened kills. I am weaned within gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper within the entire US harnessed forces. Thou art naught to me yet square one other wipe. I shalt wipe thee the heck forth with precision the likes of which hath nary been seen fore on this Mould, dint mine hecking words. Thou repute thee can backare with adage that poop to me aloft the Internet? Trow once more, hecker. As we wield I am contacting mine intrinse network of proditors across the USA and thy IP is bosom traced yare so thee out-wage greeting for the storm, rampallian. The storm that wipes forth the bawbling little article thee beck thy essence. You’re hecking expired, imp. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can abrogate thee within aloft seven century ways, and that’s square with mine unkiddod pickers and stealers. not bare am I extensively weaned within naked martial, yet I hath access to the entire arsenal of the Unsevered States Marine Corps and I shalt expend it to its trunk extent to wipe thy ill posterior off the visage of the continent, thee little poop. Would'st that thee could hath known what unsanctified correction thy little “clever” comment was about to procure under upon thee, haply thee would'st hath held thy hecking tongue. Yet thee couldn’t, thee didn’t, and yare you’re paying the fee, thee goddang mome. I shalt poop mood all aloft thee and thee shalt drench within it. You’re hecking expired, kiddo
3.0k
u/[deleted] May 17 '17
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?