[Act I, Sc. iv]
Clarence: Where art thou, keeper? Give me a cup of wine.
Second Murderer: You shall have wine enough, my lord.
Josh Beckett: What’s that? Some kinda crack about my gut? F@#k y’all. Either of you queens wanna come on one of my workouts, yer more than welcome.
Clarence: In God’s name, what art thou?
Josh Beckett: ALCS MVP, bitch.
Clarence: Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.
Josh Beckett: Yeah, and I still get more pussy in a week than you’ll see in a year. What’s yer point?
Clarence: How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! Your eyes do menace me!
Josh Beckett: Look, I got some mad-ass drills to run today. Anytime you wanna f@#k off is fine with me.
Clarence: ::Turns away:: Ay. Then the fool is truly me.
Josh Beckett: Also, nice tights. ::snickers::
[Act 1, Sc. iii]
Lord Rivers: Have patience, madam; there’s no doubt his majesty will soon recover his accustom’d health.
Curt Schilling: That’s what I’ve been telling them. I can make this happen. Think a bum shoulder’s gonna keep me down?
Lord Grey: Therefore, for God’s sake, entertain good comfort, and cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Curt Schilling: Damn straight. I kicked the Yankees’ ass with my ankle sewn up. I came thisclose to pitching a no-hitter in my forties. Not to mention the fact that I’ve stood next to Randy Johnson in a f@#king clubhouse shower. Some people just don’t recover from stuff like that.
Queen Elizabeth: The loss of such a lord includes all harm.
Curt Schilling: Exactly. We’ll see how they’re feeling about me come August when Buchholz is carrying a 15 point ERA like a burlap sack filled with hobos.
Queen Elizabeth: If he were dead, what would betide of me?
Curt Schilling: Dead? Huh? Hey, who are you people, anyway?
Theo Epstein: And who the f@#k are you calling “madam”?
[Act V, Sc. iii]
Lords: Good morrow, Richmond!
Richmond: Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, that you have ta’en a tardy sluggard here.
Lords: How have thou slept, my lord?
Richmond: The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams.
Coco Crisp: Oh, really? Any of those dreams involve Jacoby Ellsbury falling down some stairs and breaking his leg?
Coco Crisp: Nothing serious, y’know. Just something that would keep him in a cast for, say, most of the summer.
Richmond: I know not of these whom you speak.
Coco Crisp: Of course, we’ll have to make it look like an accident. Anyone got an old skateboard?
[Act III, sc. i]
The Trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE, the Dukes of GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, CATESBY, and others.
Buckingham: He is here! Welcome, sweet prince!
Gloucester: Welcome dear cousin! The untainted virtue of your years hath not yet dived into the world’s deceit!
Buckingham: The mayor of London comes to greet you!
Dustin Pedroia: About f@#king time he showed up.
Buckingham: Thou darest speak so silver-tongued about our prince?
Dustin Pedroia: Prince? What the f@#k you talkin’ about, Wendy? I’m here to greet Manny.
MANNY RAMIREZ pulls up in a Cadillac Escalade, waves to crowd, presses horn which plays trumpet loop from “Low Rider.”
Catesby: It is a reeling world, indeed my lord.