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Someone decided to rewrite all of The Big Lebowski as a Shakespeare play. It's all golden, but here's the first scene:
[THE KNAVE's house. Enter THE KNAVE, carrying parcels, and two THUGS. They fight]
BLANCHE
Whither the money, Lebowski? Faith, we are servants of Bonnie; promised by the lady good that thou in turn were good for’t.
WOO
Bound in honour, we must have our bond; cursed be our tribe if we forgive thee.
BLANCHE
Let us soak him in the commode, so as to turn his head.
WOO
Aye, and see what vapourises; then he will see what is foul.
[They insert his head into the commode]
BLANCHE
What dreadful noise of waters in thine ears! Thou hast cooled thine head; think now upon drier matters.
WOO
Speak now on ducats else again we’ll thee duckest; whither the money, Lebowski?
THE KNAVE
Faith, it awaits down there someplace; prithee let me glimpse again.
WOO
What, thou rash egg! Thus will we drown thine exclamations.
[They again insert his head into the commode]
BLANCHE
Trifle not with the fury of two desperate men. Long has thy wife sealed a bond with Jaques Treehorn; as blood is to blood, surely thou owest to Jaques Treehorn in recompense.
WOO
Rise, and speak wisely, man—but hark;
I see thy rug, as woven i’the Orient,
A treasure from abroad. I like it not.
I’ll stain it thus; ever thus to deadbeats.
[He stains the rug]
THE KNAVE
Sir, prithee nay!
BLANCHE
Now thou seest what happens, Lebowski, when the agreements of honourable business stand compromised. If thou wouldst treat money as water, flowing as the gentle rain from heaven, why, then thou knowest water begets water; it will be a watery grave your rug, drowned in the weeping brook. Pray remember, Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
Thou err’st; no man calls me Lebowski. Yet thou art man; neither spirit damned nor wandering shadow, thou art solid flesh, man of woman born. Hear rightly, man!—for thou hast got the wrong man. I am the Knave, man; Knave in nature as in name.
BLANCHE
Thy name is Lebowski. Thy wife is Bonnie.
THE KNAVE
Zounds, man. Look at these unworthiest hands; no gaudy gold profanes my little hand. I have no honour to contain the ring. I am a bachelor in a wilderness. Behold this place; are these the towers where one may glimpse Geoffrey, the married man? Is this a court where mistresses of common sense are hid? Not for me to hang my bugle in an invisible baldric, sir; I am loathe to take a wife, or she to take me until men be made of some other mettle than earth. Hark, the seat of my commode be arisen!
WOO
Search his satchel! His words are a fantastical banquet to work confusion upon his enemies. There sits eight pounds of proof within; surely he hides his treasure on his person.
BLANCHE
Villainy! Why this confounded orb, such as men use to play at ninepins; what devilry, these holes in holy trinity?
THE KNAVE
Obviously thou art not a golfer.
BLANCHE
Then thou art a man to carry ball in his sack? Thou varlet, a plague upon your house; I shall return thy orb to earth.
[He drops the ball]
Thy floor cracks in haste, sir; thou art not a man of ample foundation. Woo?
WOO
Speak, friend; I am but of droplets.
BLANCHE
Was this not a man of moneys and repute? Did not Treehorn speak of chalcedony halls, and three chests of gold, as was hard food for Midas? What think’st thou?
WOO
O undistinguish’d man! We are deceived; this man has put not money in his purse.
THE KNAVE
Weep not for grief of my own sustaining, sir. At least I am house-broken, none to break the houses of others.
WOO
If dog you are, in time you’ll have your day;
Waste time, but Jaques Treehorn will you pay.
BLANCHE
Whither the money, Lebowski? Faith, we are servants of Bonnie; promised by the lady good that thou in turn were good for’t.
WOO
Bound in honour, we must have our bond; cursed be our tribe if we forgive thee.
BLANCHE
Let us soak him in the commode, so as to turn his head.
WOO
Aye, and see what vapourises; then he will see what is foul.
[They insert his head into the commode]
BLANCHE
What dreadful noise of waters in thine ears! Thou hast cooled thine head; think now upon drier matters.
WOO
Speak now on ducats else again we’ll thee duckest; whither the money, Lebowski?
THE KNAVE
Faith, it awaits down there someplace; prithee let me glimpse again.
WOO
What, thou rash egg! Thus will we drown thine exclamations.
[They again insert his head into the commode]
BLANCHE
Trifle not with the fury of two desperate men. Long has thy wife sealed a bond with Jaques Treehorn; as blood is to blood, surely thou owest to Jaques Treehorn in recompense.
WOO
Rise, and speak wisely, man—but hark;
I see thy rug, as woven i’the Orient,
A treasure from abroad. I like it not.
I’ll stain it thus; ever thus to deadbeats.
[He stains the rug]
THE KNAVE
Sir, prithee nay!
BLANCHE
Now thou seest what happens, Lebowski, when the agreements of honourable business stand compromised. If thou wouldst treat money as water, flowing as the gentle rain from heaven, why, then thou knowest water begets water; it will be a watery grave your rug, drowned in the weeping brook. Pray remember, Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
Thou err’st; no man calls me Lebowski. Yet thou art man; neither spirit damned nor wandering shadow, thou art solid flesh, man of woman born. Hear rightly, man!—for thou hast got the wrong man. I am the Knave, man; Knave in nature as in name.
BLANCHE
Thy name is Lebowski. Thy wife is Bonnie.
THE KNAVE
Zounds, man. Look at these unworthiest hands; no gaudy gold profanes my little hand. I have no honour to contain the ring. I am a bachelor in a wilderness. Behold this place; are these the towers where one may glimpse Geoffrey, the married man? Is this a court where mistresses of common sense are hid? Not for me to hang my bugle in an invisible baldric, sir; I am loathe to take a wife, or she to take me until men be made of some other mettle than earth. Hark, the seat of my commode be arisen!
WOO
Search his satchel! His words are a fantastical banquet to work confusion upon his enemies. There sits eight pounds of proof within; surely he hides his treasure on his person.
BLANCHE
Villainy! Why this confounded orb, such as men use to play at ninepins; what devilry, these holes in holy trinity?
THE KNAVE
Obviously thou art not a golfer.
BLANCHE
Then thou art a man to carry ball in his sack? Thou varlet, a plague upon your house; I shall return thy orb to earth.
[He drops the ball]
Thy floor cracks in haste, sir; thou art not a man of ample foundation. Woo?
WOO
Speak, friend; I am but of droplets.
BLANCHE
Was this not a man of moneys and repute? Did not Treehorn speak of chalcedony halls, and three chests of gold, as was hard food for Midas? What think’st thou?
WOO
O undistinguish’d man! We are deceived; this man has put not money in his purse.
THE KNAVE
Weep not for grief of my own sustaining, sir. At least I am house-broken, none to break the houses of others.
WOO
If dog you are, in time you’ll have your day;
Waste time, but Jaques Treehorn will you pay.
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