Hello, Shakey!

Небольшое, но очень забавное издевательство над Вильямом нашим Шекспиром.
Во-первых, пересказ пьес, умещенный в одно предложение, а иногда и в одно слово:
Comedy of Errors: You'd think the characters would have figured out this tired plot device by now.
A Midsummer Night's Dream: Ain't no party like a fairy party 'cuz a fairy party don't quit!
Othello: Once you go black, you never go back.
Troilus and Cressida: Beware of Greeks playing hard to get.
Coriolanus: What a motherfucking son of a bitch.
Romeo and Juliet: A good piece of ass can kill you.
Macbeth: Miss Cleo is always right. (submitted by the Mad Hatter)
As You Like It: Chicks in drag are cute.
Pericles: Nobody likes a smartass.
The Winter's Tale: Hooray for paternity suits!
The Taming of the Shrew: Pitch the rich bitch.
Henry V: Kenneth Branagh invades France.
Antony and Cleopatra: Loose dicks sink ships.
King Lear: Sucks to be old.
Merchant of Venice: You want what?!
Titus Andronicus: Payback's a bitch.
Love's Labour's Lost: Celibacy my ass.
Julius Caesar: Trust no one.
Timon of Athens: Fuck off.
Much Ado About Nothing: Playground romance.
The Tempest: Yummy revenge!
And the plays that boil down to a single word ...
Richard III: Bwahahaha-urk!
Hamlet: Sux0r!
Во-вторых, переложение парочки сонетов:
Sonnet 130:
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, -- yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go, --
My mistress when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Translation:
Yeah, she's ugly and she stinks, but I love her.



Sonnet 138:

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies;
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppresst,
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
Oh, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

Translation:
I'm old, and she's unfaithful, but we lie to each other because we love each other.

В следующем посте переложение парочки знаменитых шекспировских монологов. Работа, ясное дело, не моя., а некоторого замечтального товарища по имени Blinkie.