When The Big Lebowski first came out in 1998, it was the Coen Brother's follow up to Fargo and had people lined up around the block, dressed in bathrobes and Ray-Ban Sunglasses and throwing back White Russians. Oh, no wait. I must be thinking of something else. The Big Lebowski made only $17.4 million at the box office and was only in theaters for a grand total of four weeks. Yet somehow, today there is a religion, annual festivals that occur nation wide, college courses and corresponding literature, and a 10th anniversary limited-edition DVD in the shape of a bowling ball. Some time after its release on DVD, someone picked it up, realized its genius, and shared it. Today, the film has some of the greatest fans in the world.

Why do I lay praise upon Lebowski fans? Because they are passionate enough to translate the entire screenplay into Shakespearean prose. Retitled Two Gentlemen of Lebowski, fan of The Dude Adam Bertocci has done a 75-page translation and has converted it into a living breathing play that could be understood by your average 16th century time traveler. I may pass out from the giddiness.

Check out a segment of the brilliance posted below and the full script here (WARNING: site may be running slow due to traffic). Should there be anyone out there that has any interest in bankrolling a production, let it be known that I will be there on opening night.

[A tavern near the bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE and WALTER]

WALTER My lord, I do deny it is her toe.

THE KNAVE Whose toe be it, if not my lady’s toe?

WALTER Vexatious problem that, but not of heft. There’s naught to indicate the lady’s harm’d.

THE KNAVE The fresh green paint of fair Miss Bonnie’s nail!

WALTER Marry, sir, nail-painting, rugs and urine. A man may paint the white toe green, tell her, Paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.

THE KNAVE And where might a man fetch a toe?

WALTER O toe! Thou wouldst have a toe? A toe can be obtain’d. Ways are known, Knave. Thou wilt not like to hear. I’ll have a toe for thee this afternoon Ere singeth cockerel at three o’clock. These amateurs would have us soil’d with fear.

(via FilmDrunk)