From Twelfth Night:

One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons,
A natural perspective, that is and is not!

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

In an occasion vociferous as debate, the president was real, not that naive opponent.

UPDATE: I’m having problems loading the embedded video, so here’s a direct link.

This is the ninth of a series of Shakespeare-themed parodies of popular songs.

I’ve been contacted by the American Song Parody Regulation Agency (ASPRA) and apparently I’m in violation of federal statutes by failing to provide a parody of “Gangnam Style” in a timely manner. With this post, I hope to bring the blog back into compliance.

Enjoy!

Agamemnon Style
rapped to the beat of “Gangnam Style”

(With apologies to PSY, and his many fans…)

Agamemnon style!

‘Memnon style!

A legendary woman with a beauty like no other,
I competed and then won you for my royal younger brother,
For you to be his queen, his wife, and then his children’s mother,
But you left the King of Sparta for another.

And so please beware!
I’ll do the things I need to do for Greece and this I swear.
I had to sacrifice my daughter just to get us there.
I truly hate to interrupt your sordid love affair,
But you should prepare.

You were cared for, but let your heart roam.
Yes, you did, hey! Oh yes, you did, hey!
You were cared for, but let your heart roam.
Think on that, hey! Yes, think on that, hey!
As the face that launched a thousand ships sails home…
Agamemnon style!

‘Memnon style! Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
‘Memnon style! Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
Hey, get the lady. Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
Hey, get the lady. Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey…

And now in spite of those offenses that have passed before,
Deliver Helen, that’s the only thing we fight you for,
Then shall the damage we’ve consumed within this cormorant war,
Stand between our nations never more.

Trojan offender, there!
Behold my fleet of ships approach in all their splendor there,
With former suitors bound by sacred honor to defend her there.
We’re engaged to fight until your forces all surrender there,
Then apprehend her there.

You were cared for, but let your heart roam.
Yes, you did, hey! Oh yes, you did, hey!
You were cared for, but let your heart roam.
Think on that, hey! Yes, think on that, hey!
As the face that launched a thousand ships sails home…
Agamemnon style!

‘Memnon style! Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
‘Memnon style! Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
Hey, get the lady. Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
Hey, get the lady. Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey…

She’s not “of Troy,” not for you to enjoy.
Maybe, maybe, your fine city here I will destroy.

She’s not “of Troy,” not for you to enjoy.
Maybe, maybe, your fine city here I will destroy.

Agamemnon style! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey…

Hey, get the lady. Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Agamemnon style!
Hey, get the lady. Ag- Ag- Ag- Ag- Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey…

Agamemnon style!

Don’t worry if you don’t know what a retrochronism is. I just made the word up. But feel free to throw it around at the dinner table and the water cooler; it’s a thing now.

Let’s say an author from an earlier time period uses a term in a sense that’s appropriate to that author’s time period. Then, the author dies and the language evolves. New technologies are invented. Culture shifts. Later readers or audiences then interpret the term as used by the author through the lens of their own time period, and incorrectly think it means something entirely different from what the author could have possibly intended. That’s a retrochronism!

This is not to be confused with an anachronism, a term generally used to describe instances where an author uses something from his own time in a work that is set before that thing would have been possible or appropriate. Shakespeare has many such anachronisms, such as the clock striking in Julius Caesar. But a retrochronism is different. It isn’t a mistake by the author; it’s an accident of history.

We’ve had 400 years now to develop a few good examples for Shakespeare. The quintessential example is from Romeo and Juliet:

JULIET: O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Most readers of this blog probably know that “wherefore” means “why” and not “where.” But this is far from obvious, and many newcomers to Shakespeare, entering his world through this play, assume she’s searching for him from her balcony. Who says “wherefore” anymore?

Another common example can be found in Hamlet:

HAMLET: Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN: The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

HAMLET: O! but she’ll keep her word.

In Shakespeare’s time, “protest” meant to promise. But today we think of it in the opposite sense of a denial. So when people quote the line, they often mean that a person is denying something so much that it must be true. But Gertrude meant that the lady was promising so much that it must be false!

Those two examples are probably the most well known, but below are my ten favorites, culled from years of introducing kids to Shakespeare and from my own journey of working through the language.

TEN. Was Doll Tearsheet a One-Percenter?

DOLL: A captain! God’s light, these villains will make the word captain as odious as the word ‘occupy,’ which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted: therefore captains had need look to it.

Playgoers who have attended productions of Henry IV, Part Two in the past year must have been taken aback by this statement, possibly even suspecting editorial interference for political purposes.

But in Shakespeare’s time, the word “occupy” was slang for having sex with someone. It’s enough to make you wonder what was really going on at Zuccotti Park after hours.

NINE. Did the Witches prophesy Kitty Hawk?

FIRST WITCH: Here I have a pilot’s thumb,
Wrack’d as homeward he did come.

Most modern audiences are familiar with the word “pilot” as meaning someone who flies an airplane, obviously not what Shakespeare meant in Macbeth.

The word “pilot” meant (and still means) someone who steers a ship.

EIGHT. Was Lord Capulet a pimp?

CAPULET: What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

Here is one that comes up often when working with kids; this example from Romeo and Juliet is as good as any. Shakespeare had a lot of words for “prostitute,” but “ho” was not among them.

If you bring your voice up on the word, it’s an antiquated expression of zeal. If you bring it down, it’s a contemporary form of derisive address. Voices up, please.

SEVEN. Was Bottom a Lea Michele fan?

BOTTOM: Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.

Folks who are “Glee Geeks” might enjoy imagining Nick Bottom from A Midsummer Night’s Dream as one of them. He admitted he can “gleek” after all.

Sure, I’m being a little silly with this one, but why not? “Gleek” means to joke around.

SIX. Did Olivia have some work done?

OLIVIA: We will draw the curtain and show you the picture. [Unveiling.] Look you, sir, such a one I was as this present: is’t not well done?

VIOLA: Excellently done, if God did all.

OLIVIA: ’Tis in grain, sir; ’twill endure wind and weather.

Viola’s quip “if God did all” can set a Twelfth Night audience roaring if delivered just so. Does Viola suspect a little Nip/Tuck help is behind Olivia’s epic beauty?

Don’t start fitting Dr. 90210 for a doublet and hose just yet. Viola is merely making a reference to cosmetics.

FIVE. Was Hamlet a fan of Wayne’s World?

HAMLET: I did love thee once.

OPHELIA: Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET: You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not.

Again, this one came from the kids, though it was more common back in the ’90’s, when Wayne and Garth had more of an effect on the language.

Think of the line from Hamlet (and similar lines throughout the canon) as being delivered like this: “I loved you… NOT!” Yeah, they really used to do that… I kid you not.

FOUR. Was Feste creating a hostile work environment?

MARIA: Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse. My lady will hang thee for thy absence.

CLOWN: Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.

MARIA: Make that good.

CLOWN: He shall see none to fear.

Well hanged? Oh, no he didn’t!

Well, no he didn’t. It’s usually a safe bet to assume that any possible sexual innuendo was intended by Shakespeare, but Twelfth Night pre-dates the earliest known uses of the expression “well hung” to refer to a generous anatomical endowment. Plus, in the next line, Feste makes it clear he’s literally referring to a hanging. If the sexual pun were intended, why would Shakespeare have backed off the joke?

THREE. Did Ariel suffer from low self-esteem?

ARIEL: Where the bee sucks, there suck I.

Ouch. It’s not hard to convince high-school students that Shakespeare’s characters do, in fact, suck. But would Shakespeare have said so in The Tempest?

No. Bees, you see… eh, go ask your father.

TWO. Did the Porter invent a new art form?

PORTER: Knock, knock! Who’s there i’ the other devil’s name! Faith, here’s an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed treason enough for God’s sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O! come in, equivocator.

Rather than answering the knocking at the door, the Porter from Macbeth imagines himself as the Porter at the gates of Hell, and does some schtick about the various characters he might meet in that position. The expression “Knock Knock, Who’s there” is used to introduce new characters in his standup routine.

But if you’re expecting him to answer “Ophelia,” you’re going to have a long wait. The Knock-Knock joke as we know it is a twentieth-century creation.

ONE. Is Dromio of Syracuse a pothead?

DROMIO S: I am transformed, master, am not I?

ANTIPHOLOUS S: I think thou art, in mind, and so am I.

DROMIO S: Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape.

ANTIPHOLOUS S: Thou hast thine own form.

DROMIO S: No, I am an ape.

LUCIANA: If thou art chang’d to aught, ’tis to an ass.

DROMIO S: ’Tis true; she rides me and I long for grass.

Zing! Dromio’s jonesing for some weed! The Comedy of Errors is a drug play!

But not really. Dromio just longs for the freedom of greener pastures. Grass means grass, baby. However, the “she rides me” part probably does mean what you think it means.

So those are my ten favorite retrochronisms from Shakespeare. Did I miss any? Feel free to add to the list!

This is the eighth of a series of Shakespeare-themed parodies of popular songs.

Enjoy!

Countrywide Problems
rapped to the beat of “99 Problems”

(With apologies to Jay-Z, and anyone who came here looking for stuff they could use in class…)

I ain’t worried ‘bout the Maid of Orleans.
I got countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.

I got morbid fears on the war frontiers,
This thing’s been ragin’ on for a Hundred Years.
Charles the Dauphin named himself the French King.
I’m the French King, stupid, you don’t know a damn thing.
My father did conquer, or haven’t you heard,
Reclaiming the title of Edward III.
So now England and France are united as one.
If you don’t like the arrangement, too bad, it’s all done.
But with our generals shaken, an army unskilled,
With Talbot taken, and with Salisbury killed,
The French took back Champaigne and Rouen,
Rheims and Poitiers, and now Paris is gone… zut alors!
I don’t know what you take me as,
Or understand the divine right that Henry has.
We took back Rouen, but the French ain’t done.
I got countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
Back me!

Countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
I ain’t worried ‘bout the Maid of Orleans.
I got countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
Back me!

It’s 1429, and the realm is fine,
But some folks just want to step out of line.
My uncles spend hours debating my powers,
And out in the garden, they’re choosing up flowers.
Plantagenet shows up with a smirk on his face,
And actin’ like the fool thinks he owns the damn place, so I
Take the time out of planning for wars,
And I heard “I have a claim that’s better than yours.”
You don’t have a claim, who you messin’ with?
Your pops was a traitor, mine was Henry V,
So what’s this claim you think you can flaunt?
“From my mother from a brother who was older than Gaunt.”
Uh-huh. “My uncle carried the Mortimer name,
And now that he’s gone I inherit his claim.”
Descended through a female, so you missed your chance.
“If that’s how it goes, what are we doing in France?”
We use English law here, you wanna be a smart alec,
French law is different, and it’s not the Law Salic!
“Aren’t you sharp as a tack, you some type of scholar or somthin’,
Some kind of royal family historian?”
I ain’t got all the lineage trees from Burke’s,
But I know a little somethin’ ’bout how this all works.
I gave him York, but his trench ain’t done.
I got countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
Back me!

Countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
I ain’t worried ‘bout the Maid of Orleans.
I got countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
Back me!

Now once upon a time, when I had to invade,
A monarch like myself had to strong-arm a maid.
This is not a maid in the sense of some girl with a sword,
But a self-proclaimed handmaid who waits on the Lord.
My army met hers on an Angiers field,
And in force of war, York made the witch yield.
You know the type, claiming divine sight,
But she couldn’t hold her own in a brute fight.
The only thing that I’d let happen is to stop all her yappin’,
Take her to the stake and start strappin’ with the wrappin’,
And then watch the witch start bargainin’,
In a desperate attempt just to save her skin.
Such an unholy lass, so afraid of death,
That she’s spouting out lies with her dying breath.
She denied her father, claimed a noble birth,
And an unborn child to increase her worth.
But from Renier of Naples or Alencon?
So much for the “Maid” of Orleans.
We lit the fire, and the stench ain’t fun.
I got countrywide problems, burnin’ a wench ain’t one.
Back me!

Countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
I ain’t worried ‘bout the Maid of Orleans.
I got countrywide problems, but a wench ain’t one.
Back me!

From Coriolanus:

A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy. Welcome.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Each high page-view accolade would include all who huddled around my site as monument.

From Romeo and Juliet:

But, let them measure us by what they will,
We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

The melee damage-buy seems mutual where Rahm blew a test-result law by the union.

Oops, I did it again! This is the seventh of a series of pop-music parodies for Shakespeare fans.

Enjoy!

Thought We Were Friends
sung to the tune of “Till the World Ends”

(With apologies to Britney Spears and, yeah, Shakespeare…)

Been servant to you for my whole life, you see.
Never seen you behave so abnormally.

Although you are my master,
Your words are a disaster.
I tell you of your honey;
You ask me for your money.
I ask you if you’re eating;
You answer with a beating.
Master, say, is everything all right?

I can’t take it, take it, take no more.
Never been like, been like this before.
C’mon get me, get me off the floor.
Master, what’d you, what’d you beat me for?

* * *

Say what else, but I know what I know did pass.
Being kicked, I should kick, if I were an ass.

You brought home guests for dinner;
The doors were locked from inner.
You left mad with the goldsmith;
A rope you said come back with.
Then, my task completing,
I earn another beating.
Master, say, is everything all right?

I can’t take it, take it, take no more.
Never been like, been like this before.
C’mon get me, get me off the floor.
Master, what’d you, what’d you beat me for?

* * *

If you beat me, I must take it.
But I really thought we were friends.
I’m the servant; you’re the master.
But I really thought we were friends.

But I really thought we were friends.
But I really thought we were friends.

From Julius Caesar:

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
I am no orator, as Brutus is;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend; and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Naturally suave Bill Clinton stumps for pal Obama, takes his aim at a wordy, awesome, truthful venue keynote.

A main theme was that he could probably talk us all into voting for Romney if he wanted to.

This is the sixth of a series of parodies, in which I change the lyrics to a popular song to make it about Shakespeare.

Enjoy!

Mourn This Way
sung to the tune of “Born This Way”

(With apologies to Lady Gaga and, I guess, Weird Al Yankovic…)

It doesn’t matter if you loved him,
Or capital M-O-M.
Just throw some black on,
‘Cause you can mourn this way, baby!

My mama told me when I was young,
I’d one day become the king.
But when my father died, my uncle did,
While she was glad to wear his ring.

And now I’m seeing my father’s ghost;
“Avenge my unnatural death” he’ll say.
I’ll fool my uncle, keep him off his guard,
With the crafty madness I can play.

I’m gonna change how I look,
Then read some words from a book,
And I’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

I’m gonna put on a show;
I’ll get my uncle to go,
And I’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

Mourn this way!

Oh, I’ll watch him at the play.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.

Mourn this way!

Oh, I’ll watch him at the play.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
All black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.
I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.
I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.

My uncle murdered Dad and took his crown;
I know just how far fetched that sounds.
But now the king’s fled from the play, so I’ll
Take the ghost’s word for a thousand pounds.

“Direct your vengeance against the king,
But not capital M-O-M.” Hey, hey, hey!
If I confront her, then the ghost will come:
Truepenny, hic et ubique.

And now my girlfriend’s gone mad,
Because I murdered her dad,
And I wore all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

I took a trip with some friends;
Too bad they’ll now meet their ends,
While I wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

Oh, I sent them on their way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.

Mourn this way!

Oh, I sent them on their way.
Maybe I can mourn this way.
All black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

I’m not a king; I’m just a prince.
Hereditary governments
Have quite a lot to answer for
In Copenhagen, Elsinore!

And soon I’ll need to fear no toil,
I’ll shuffle off this mortal coil,
So get yourself some black today,
‘Cause, baby, you can mourn this way.

No matter king, queen, or knave,
Prince, yeoman, beggar, or slave;
You gotta wear black, baby,
When you mourn at my grave.

No matter Danish, German,
Norwegian, Pole, Swede, or Finn;
You gotta wear black, baby,
So your mourn can begin.

Out to the graveyard I’ll go,
Talk to this skull that I know,
And I’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause I mourn this way.

I’ll match Laertes with swords,
Then get my final rewards,
And you’ll wear all black, baby,
‘Cause you’ll mourn this way, yeah.

Oh, this is my final day.
Horatio, you’ll mourn this way.
Maybe you can mourn this way.

Mourn this way!

Oh, this is my final day.
Horatio, you’ll mourn this way.
All black, baby,
‘Cause you’ll mourn this way.

You can mourn this way, hey!
You can mourn this way, hey!
Just wear all black, baby,
You can mourn this way, hey!

You can mourn this way, hey!
You can mourn this way, hey!
Just wear all black, baby,
You can mourn this way, hey!

I’m DOA, so mourn this way…
I’m DOA, so mourn this way…

From Macbeth:

O! these flaws and starts—
Impostors to true fear—would well become
A woman’s story at a winter’s fire,
Authoriz’d by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all’s done
You look but on a stool.

Shift around the letters, and it becomes:

Don’t worry for famous Clint Eastwood.

Honestly, that slowed hokey bit where he was lecturing to a fantasized Obama seems somewhat normal.

Sure, all the rest of your famous Republicans always do.

Kudos!