A Shakespearean adaptation of the Big Lebowski. I want to see this on stage so bad.
In sooth, then, faithful friend, this was a rug of value? Thou wouldst call it not a rug among ordinary rugs, but a rug of purpose? A star in a firmament, in step with the fashion alike to the Whitsun morris-dance? A worthy rug, a rug of consequence, sir?
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.
Indeed, a rug of value; an estimable rug, an honour’d rug; O unhappy rug, that should live to cover such days!
Of what dost thou speak, that tied the room together, Knave? Take pains, for I would well hear of that which tied the room together.
Didst thou attend the Knave’s tragic history, Sir Donald?
Nay, good Sir Walter, I was a-bowling.
Thou attend’st not; and so thou hast no frame of reference. Thou art as a child, wandering and strutting amidst the groundlings as a play is in session, heeding not the poor players, their exits and their entrances, and, wanting to know the subject of the story, asking which is the lover and which the tyrant.