With apologies to McSweeney’s.
ACT ONE, SCENE THREE
Goneril: Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?
Bronson Arroyo: I don’t know about that, but A-Rod just totally slapped the ball out of my glove!
Goneril: By day and night he wrongs me; every hour, he flashes into one gross crime or other.
Bronson Arroyo: [Ignores her; gesturing to umpire] He hit me! He can’t do that!
Goneril: I will not speak with him; say I am sick.
Bronson Arroyo: What a total douchebag.
ACT ONE, SCENE FOUR
Fool: Let me hire him too: here’s my coxcomb.
Kevin Millar: “Cocks”-what? Dude, what is that all about?
Lear: How now, my pretty knave! How dost thou?
Kevin Millar: “Pretty”? What the? Hey, I don’t swing with that stuff, buddy.
Fool: Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Kevin Millar: Again with the cocks? I’m outta here. [runs out of dugout onto field.]
ACT THREE, SCENE THREE
Gloucester: Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing.
Johnny Damon: No shit. These fans are insane. Now here come the riot police. [sits down on grass] This could take a while.
Edmund: Most savage and unnatural!
Johnny Damon: Hey, speaking of unnatural, last night Michelle and I gave each other port wine enemas.
Gloucester: Go to; say you nothing.
Johnny Damon: Being me… doth not suck.
ACT FOUR, SCENE SIX
Gloucester: When shall we come to the top of that same hill?
Curt Schilling: That hill? [pointing to pitcher’s mound] Actually, I’m going up there alone.
Edgar: You do climb up it now; look, how you labour.
Curt Schilling: Nah, it’ll be fine. Doc Morgan hooked me up.
Gloucester: Methinks the ground is even.
Curt Schilling: [kicking at the dirt] No, it’s good. Really. I’m fine.
Edgar: Horrible steep. Hark, do you hear the sea?
Curt Schilling: The what? Hey, can you guys f–k off? You’re harshing my focus.
ACT FIVE, SCENE THREE
Earl of Kent: Is this the promised end?
Edgar: Or image of that horror?
Tony Clark [digging in against Foulke]: Not on my watch, buddy. This one’s going out. I’ll be another ghost, come back to haunt the Red Sox.
Umpire: Strike one!
Duke of Albany: Fall, and cease!
Tony Clark: No way. I’m bringin’ it home.
Umpire: Strike two!
Lear: It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows.
Tony Clark: I go yard. We win, 5-2. Focus. Focus.
Umpire: Strike Three!
Tony Clark: Aw, f–k. [lumbers back to dugout, where Steinbrenner awaits him with two armed sentries, their swords drawn]
Tony Clark: What punishment awaits?
Steinbrenner: Let’s just say it’s a good thing you’ve already had children.
ACT FIVE, SCENE THREE
Duke of Albany: The weight of this sad time we must obey.
Joe Torre: Yeah, whatever. If we don’t win tomorrow, I’m gonna be forced to snack on my own nuts.
Duke of Albany: We that are young shall never see so much, nor live so long.
[Exeunt]
