Neurotic Fishbowl: Madlib - Shakespeare Style

 

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Madlib - Shakespeare Style

I shamelessly stole Emily's idea of yesterday and have put up a famous Shakespearen soliloquy as a madlib. Feel free to leave your answers in the comments. Don't click the "Read More" until you're done.

Verb:
Noun:
Noun:
Plural noun:
Adjective:
Plural noun:
Plural noun:
Verb ending in -ing:
Verb:
Same verb from above:
Noun:
A large number:
A profession or status (i.e. butcher or son):
Noun:
Adverb:
Verb:
Same verb from above:
Same verb from above:
Noun:
Same verb from above:
Plural noun:
Past-tense verb:
Adjective:
Noun:

Keeping with the Shakespearen theme, here's Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 18 put to music and sung by Bryan Ferry from the Diana Princess of Wales Tribute CD, another excellent compilation CD.

Bryan Ferry - Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 18 (Like it? Then buy the CD.)

To be, or not to verb, -- that is the noun;
Whether 'tis nobler in the noun to suffer
The slings and plural noun of adjective fortune,
Or to take plural noun against a sea of plural noun,
And by verb ending in -ing end them. To die, -- to verb, --
No more; and by a same verb from above to say we end
The noun and the a large number natural shocks
That flesh is a profession or status (i.e. butcher or son) to,-- 'tis a noun
adverb to be wish'd. To die, --- to verb,--
To same verb from above! perchance to same verb from above! ay, there's the noun;
For in that same verb from above of death what plural noun may come
When we have past-tense verb off this adjective coil,
Must give us noun....


It should read:

To be, or not to be, -- that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, -- to sleep, --
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,-- 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, --- to sleep,--
To sleep! perchance to dream! ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause....

.: Posted July 24, 2004 11:02 AM in Project Blog 2004, ";print substr($entry_cats, 0, -2); ?> :.


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Comments

Ok, it is WAAAYYY too early to be thinking about Shakespeare!

.: Michael said on July 24, 2004 11:26 AM :: link it :.

To be, or not to smash, -- that is the towel;
Whether 'tis nobler in the city to suffer
The slings and bananas of exquisite fortune,
Or to take puppies against a sea of restaurants,
And by bleeding end them. To die, -- to love, --
No more; and by a love to say we end
The sandwich and the 634,888 natural shocks
That flesh is a teacher to,-- 'tis a song
quickly to be wish'd. To die, --- to feel,--
To feel from above! perchance to feel! ay, there's the book;
For in that feel of death what lampshades may come
When we have melted off this majestic coil,
Must give us moon....

.: marcus said on July 24, 2004 02:11 PM :: link it :.

You're too early! Come back at July 24, 2004 11:02 AM to see this post.

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