I've thought long and hard about what the following post will do for my blog statistics ...

I was standing in the Shakespeare section of the bookstore, about to buy Othello, when I noticed a little book called Filthy Shakespeare, by Pauline Kiernan. I began flipping through the book, recalling the plays I was familiar with--Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, and A Midsummer Night's Dream--and was soon snickering at some of the dirtiest puns I'd ever come across.

"You like that, don't you?"

She was a pretty blonde, about my age--maybe a few years younger--standing several feet away, smiling and watching me. A college student, most likely. I chuckled in response. "Yeah, it's pretty good," she said, looking at the book and nodding.

"You've read this?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah," she said. Her smile widened. "It's dirty." She took a copy of the book from the shelf and began flipping through it, occasionally pausing to read. "Here we go. I've always wanted to try this," she said, winking at me and giggling. "Go to page eighty-five."

I quickly found the section and glanced over it. Othello, Act 2, Scene 1. Under the heading "Desdemona Talks Dirty."

"All right," she said, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. The she stood straighter, eyes sparkling. "You're Iago. I'm Desdemona." I stared at her, wondering if she was serious. She urged me on by fluttering her eyelashes and smiling demurely.

I laughed and tossed off all my American sensibilities, suddenly relishing the idea of talking dirty to a literary woman I'd never met--in a bookstore, of all places. I'd probably never have this opportunity again.

We ran through the original exchange with our eyes glued to the text:

Desdemona: What wouldst write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?
Iago: O, gentle lady, do not put me to't,
For I'm nothing if not critical.
Desdemona: Come on, essay-- ...
Iago: I am about it, but indeed my invention
Comes from my pate as birdlime does the frieze--
It plucks out brains and all. But my muse labours,
And thus she is delivered:
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one's for use, the other useth it.
Desdemona: Well praised! How if she be black and witty?
Iago: If she be black and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white hat that shall her blackness fit.
Desdemona: Worse and worse.

Then we ran through it once more, this time with the puns translated. (The original puns, of course, would've been familiar to theater-goers in Shakespeare's time.) We spoke softly, snickering before saying our lines. Strangely enough, we found it easy to make eye contact.

Desdemona: What would you write about me, if you were going to praise me?
Iago: A cunt, gentle lady. Do not encourage me to fuck you, for my prick's nothing if not fussy.
Desdemona: Come to an orgasm, try.
Iago: I'm trying to achieve one but when it comes to the act of sex I get my stimulus from my own penis-head when the spunk comes. But my inspiration has come, and this is how I would praise you: if she is fair and wise, there will be a vagina and a prick--the one's for being fucked, the other fucks it.
Desdemona: Well praised! What if she's black and witty?
Iago: If she's black, and has a cunt, she'll find a cock that will fit her cunt.
Desdemona: Your lewdness gets worse and worse.

"That was great," she said, throwing back her head and laughing. I'd already decided I was going to buy the book, but I was busy looking over Kiernan's notes, which explain the terms and their usage in Shakespeare's time:

O. Cunt. ['O' refers to any circle, ring, or hole]
Put me to't. Encourage me to fuck you.
Nothing. Prick. ['Nothing' can denote any orifice]
Come on. Come to an orgasm.
About. A sexual bout.
Indeed. Sex-act. ['To do' means 'to fuck']
Invention. Stimulus.
Pate. The head of the penis.
Birdlime. Sticky substance to trap small birds, and a pun on spunk.
Brains. Balls. [Part of the brain that resembled testicles. 'Barren-brained' means without balls, impotent]
All. Prick. [Punning on 'awl', a boring-tool]
Fairness. Vagina, as in 'fair parts'.
Wit. Prick. [Punning on 'wight', meaning 'man']
For use. For fucking. ['To use' is 'to fuck']
Useth it. Fucks it.
Wit. Cunt. [Punning on 'white' in archery, a white patch of cloth at the center of the target]
White. Cock. [Punning on 'wight', meaning man]
Blackness. Cunt. ['Blackness' suggests 'hell', this being a frequent word for cunt ...]
Worse. 'Worse' is a frequent pun on the sound of the word 'whores'.
Fit. Fit Desdemona's 'blackness', i.e. her cunt.

I know this might seem pretty far-fetched, because we don't usually like to imagine Shakespeare having a filthy mind, but taken with Kiernan's brilliant and informative introduction--which explains the sexual attitudes of Elizabethan England and how Shakespeare exploited language and context to veil his dirty puns (think of our own seemingly-innocent terms, like "nail," "bush," and "screw" and you're already halfway there)--Filthy Shakespeare actually makes perfect sense. (We shouldn't be too surprised that he was able to do this; as Kiernan notes, it's estimated that Shakespeare had a vocabulary of an astonishing 29,000 words; by contrast, the average British university graduate has a vocabulary of a mere 3,000 to 4,000 words.) Yes, this is one of the dirtiest, funniest books I've ever read--these puns would shame the editors of Hustler--but the book is also a wonderful feast of language that will greatly enrich any reading of Shakespeare.

Comments

[theorist]

So, um, what happened with the pretty girl?

[Nonanon]

I'm with theorist--where's the rest of the story?!?!? You can't just pun and run, Brandon, spill the rest of the story.

(I can use puns of my own, you see.)