Hamlet’s Lawyer
Will Shakespeare? Here. These papers are for you.
Aye, open them. A summons and complaint!
Don’t grumble, sir! We have the right to sue,
And Lord knows you are neither prince nor saint.
You stand accused, you whoreson playwright bore!
You recall nought? You do not give a damnlet?
You will, by Jove. Remember Elsinore?
You grasp it now? The plaintiff is Prince Hamlet!
You wrote a play in which he was the lead.
All’s well and good, but you, ungracious host,
Made Hamlet addled, forcing him to heed
The vengeful, tortured ravings of a ghost!
Do you deny this? You made him a prince
Who never gets to be proclaimed the King!
His scheming uncle’s crowned and robed in chintz,
While noble Hamlet’s stung by Fortune’s sling.
Ophelia and Polonius fall dead;
My client’s blamed and stained with ill-repute.
So many mortal coils, it seems, are shed
That Denmark starts to smell like rotten fruit.
The work you’ve penned shows blatant disregard
For Hamlet’s peace. A victim of foul play,
By Act Five’s end he’s poisoned, stabbed and scarred—
Quite dead—until tomorrow’s matinee.
It’s your fault, sir, that Hamlet’s hope is shorn,
For you wrote madness, vitriol and hate!
To sue or not to sue? Though he was torn,
He’s now resolved to charge you for his fate.
Mrs. Malaprop Remarries at Blast
The windowed Mrs. Malaprop endears
A suitor who now warms her twilight ears.
Eternal love which transcends time and ague!
A joyous briss—the type where none can nag you.
Let’s meet the gentleman of whom we spook:
A man extinguished and of good rebuke.
His name, you quarry? ‘Tis Ephraim Gaffe.
He’s witty. He can speak well off-the-calf.
He’s noble both in stature and in blaring;
(Though truth be tolled, he’s slightly hard of herring.)
He plops the question one fine scummy day.
He blends down on one knee. She hears him say
“I pledge my heart. Come be my financier!”
She says, “Of corpse, may you be ever near!”
She whips a tear of joy, brushes blight red,
De-liced indeed that they will soon be wed.
Enraged at last, they feel they cannot weight
And check their colanders to set the date.
They’ll plague—each to the other—all their troths
On April fist—in only three short moths.
At last, at last, their weeding day derives
When gloom and bridle sledge each other’s lives!
He thirsts with pride to watch her amber down
The isle. They stand. They hear the pastor drown
A lengthy speech. Time flays. And then they say,
“I do! I’ll loathe you till my diving day.”
They kiss and then the whole church constipation
Exclaims in one loud voice: Conglomeration!
They all applaud and shout: Hip hip José!
Bouquets and rice are throne. O harpy day!
Now Mrs. Malaprop is Mrs. Gaffe.
She and her hobby hope you’ve had a laugh
As they enjoy their happy calibration
And sit off for their honeymoon vexation!
Brian Yapko is a retired lawyer whose poetry has appeared in over fifty journals. He is the winner of the 2023 SCP International Poetry Competition. Brian is also the author of several short stories, the science fiction novel El Nuevo Mundo and the gothic archaeological novel Bleeding Stone. He lives in Bradenton, Florida.
Brian,
These are great!
“Hamlet’s Lawyer” is so clever and imaginative! What a delight!
And the Malaprop poem is so witty and well crafted!
Amazing work!
Thank you very much, Zumwalt. I’m glad you enjoyed them!
Brian, how you ever conceptualized such “preceedings” in your mind is behind me. Your splay on words is both fascinating and derivative resulting in some of the most fractured thoughts I have ever pursued, or could it be perused? “To sue or not to sue” is one of the best turns of the shrew. “Hamlet’s Lawyer” steams to have a good case. Mrs. Malaprop becoming Mrs. Gaffe is a perfect amalgamation and concluding with “vexation.” is marvelous. I am learning that your imagination knows no hounds.
Well, at least they got stuck together on their honey balloon.
Accompanied by their money loon, while reading a funny rune, and humming a sunny tune. You see? The vexation never ends.
Thank you so much, Roy! I remember once seeing a spoof of an old public service announcement which said “A mind is a terrible thing.” (The original said, “a mind is a terrible thing to waste.”) I’m not sure what my punt is other than that my splay on wards is a complete misery to me, worthy of Agathy Crikey. I’m especially glad you liked that “to sue or not to sue” line. I can’t take full credit for it since it was a throwaway sentience by my spouse which I burrowed (with his knowledge and persimmon.) We both laughed and polarity ensued.
Mr. Yapko, being a HSDO myself, I’ll have to take your ‘words’ for it that Mr. Shakespeare got what was coming two hymn in poem #1, and, inn peace # too, yore historically histeric ‘Conglomeration’ actually gave me ‘constipation’! LOL!!
Thank you so much, Mark! HSDO or not, your work is amazing and so are your comments! That “constipation” line made me laugh when I wrote it and now, for some bizarre reason, I can’t stop saying “onglomeration” instead of congratulations. Hopefully it’s just a phase.
These are two FANTASTIC poems! The first is by a poet who knows Shakespeare’s Hamlet inside and out, and who can create a totally unexpected scenario of a character suing its author. Practically the entire play is alluded to, in the hectoring, accusatory tone of an attorney, in an English which is just Elizabethan enough to suit the situation, but modern enough not to be difficult. What a feat!
The Mrs. Malaprop poem is a veritable tour de force. Every single line has a hysterically funny misuse of language, perfectly suited to the subject and the characters. “Of corpse”? “De-liced”? I cracked up when reading these and all the others. And the humor is sustained for thirty-four lines!
You know what’s great about these two pieces? They are funny, unpredictable, verbally delightful. exciting, and ALIVE! They fill a crying need in contemporary formal and metrical verse — the need to not be choked by decorum and piety and conventionality, and to relate to the literary traditions we honor not just with respect, but also with humor and facetiousness.
Brian, you are at the top of your form.
Joe, I will long treasure this comment. Thank you! Getting the “sense” of a historical period without aiming for a literal use of language is always a bit tricky. The Tom Stoppard screenplay for “Shakespeare in Love” is my gold standard for Elizabethan flavor but with contemporary resonance. On this subject, I sometimes laugh when I encounter movies or books which purport to be about King Arthur and the Round Table but which sound amazingly 18th Century. I suppose it’s necessary because modern readers and audiences would never be able to wrap their heads around an authentic use of true period language.
Mrs. Malaprop was also great fun to write but terribly tricky. A normal poem requires that it make sense and rhyme. This poem added that extra dimension of coming up with malapropisms which sort of fit the sense but which took the rhymes and meaning of the poem in directions that were difficult to follow-through on. I’m glad the final product has offered a few laughs.
Lastly, I’m thrilled with your reaction to the poems — particularly the sense of them being alive. All poetry is intellectual to some degree but a distressing number of works are dull or montonous or run on too long. I try very hard to maintain discipline on length (I can be brutal with the “delete” button) and I try very hard to make my work entertaining and fresh. So “alive” may well be the single most treasured adjective for my work that I can imagine. Than you for that.
Ha! ha! Ha! Really belly laughs reading these – and the first is a genius conceit, and so many lines one could praise but the standout for me has to be: “You do not give a damnlet?” That, that is just such a wonderful neologism! These poems are masterclasses in wit.
Thank you so much, James! I’m so glad these poems gave you a laugh! As for “damnlet… Well, necessity was the mother of invention. There are simply too few rhymes for “Hamlet” in the English language. I’m glad this poem has increased that number by one.
I agree — these are both masterfully hilarious! I first met Mrs. Malaprop in high school, and though I was normally a quiet student, I was laughing more loudly than anyone else. They probably thought I was a nut. What a brilliant wordsmith you are, Brian.
Thank you so much, Cynthia! I have loved Mrs. Malaprop for many years as well. I had no idea how influential Sheridan’s character actually was to the comedy world. Before I met Mrs. Malaprop, I saw a comedian named Norm Crosby on TV who apparently made a career out of mangling language. And then there was Gilda Radner on Saturday Night Live — her Emily Latella character used to make me howl. I remember her opining on controversial “violins on television” the upcoming “presidential erection” and conserving “natural racehourses.” Then she’d get corrected by the SNL newsteam and she’d say “Oh, that’s different. Never mind.”
What fun! Reminds me of the constable in Measure for Measure. William Shakespeare, it would seem, loved a good joke as much as we do. And the English language, let us note, in its astonishing richness, offers immense opportunity for wit, which you here have nimbly taken advantage of. Thanks very much.
Thank you very much, Bhikku! I have not read Measure for Measure in decades. It’s time for me to re-read it. I’m grateful for the new reading project! And you have reminded me that comically-misused language long predates Sheridan’s character and that Shakespeare got quite a few laughs with it as well. I wonder if there are even older examples? Does linguistic humor go all the way back?
“Hamlet’s Lawyer” is hilarious! I love the references, incorporation of Shakespearean sayings, and coinings like “damnlet!” The line “Quite dead – until tomorrow’s matinee” is fantastic too!
And “Mrs. Malaprop Marries at Blast” is so cleverly crafted. Funny and very impressive!
Thank you very much indeed, Katie. I’m so glad you picked up on all of those little Shakespearian “Easter eggs.” The “matinee” line is my favorite as well.
Brian, I cannot thank you enough for the uplifting dose of laughter these excellently crafted poems have brought to my grey day. Literary authorship leading to legal farce – what a hoot! There are too many gems to choose from, but I just love: “You do not give a damnlet?”, “So many mortal coils, it seems, are shed / That Denmark starts to smell like rotten fruit.”, and the funniest of all of them “By Act Five’s end he’s poisoned, stabbed and scarred— / Quite dead—until tomorrow’s matinee.” which made my sides ache! As a poet who regularly engages in a bit of sharp satire, my laughter may well be of the nervous kind!
And when I thought I could laugh no longer, up pops “Mrs. Malaprop Remarries at Blast” – a perfectly discombobulated romp chock full of language that trips over its own shoe liaisons leaving me completely flubberghastly by the sheer audensity of your cloverly grafted lines. That “church constipation” and “O harpy day!” have left my sides aping. Superb!
Susan, I’m overjoyed by your delighted reaction to my poems. Sometimes a bit of laughter is the best medicine. I’m especially glad that you enjoyed the “Hamlet” poem as I know you to be one of the SCP’s biggest Shakespeare fans. I somehow envisioned a fantasy realm in which authors coexist with the characters that they’ve created. That is an idea that I think has much potential — it gives Sir Arthur Conan Doyle leave to help Sherlock Holmes solve a crime and it gives Emily Bronte the possibility of a happily-ever after with Heathcliff. At any rate, I loved the idea of literary characters being able to go after their creators to blame them for an unhappy lot. And, it would seem, my Hamlet exists in some kind of purgatory where he dies and then comes back to life all over again to suffer anew with each performance of the play. Perhaps I owe something to “Groundhog Day.”
I’m also grateful that you enjoyed my Mrs. Malaprop poem (which is, of course, a sequel to my original “Tribune.”) My personal favorite phrase? “Time flays.” But your comment was pure gold. I laughed out loud at your “shoe liaisons”. Thank you again, Susan. You’ve made a trying day so much better.
Wow! Talk about fireworks! I cannot imagine ever writing anything like this. Really amazing and hilarious! Wow!
Thank you so much, Mike! I’m really glad you enjoyed the fireworks! Writing both of these was (no pun intended) an absolute blast!
Brian
These are witty masterful rhymed delights! You are channeling first Browning, and then Pope, with a nod to the glorious wordplay of Lewis Carroll!
‘Hamlet’s Lawyer’ is 6 quatrains of perfect cross-rhymed iambic pentameter, a dramatic monolog by Hamlet’s lawyer, addressed to Shakespeare. Throughout are sly references to the play Hamlet. My favorite lines:
So many mortal coils, it seems are shed
That Denmark starts to smell like rotten fruit
‘Mrs. Malaprop Remarries at Blast’ are 3 stanzas of 5 lines of perfect iambic pentameter rhymed couplets with an “envoi” of 2 rhymed couplets (so 19 lines in all). The wit is over-the-top hilarious. ‘O harpy day!’ (‘O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”’ comes immediately to my mind!)
My only quibble: look at Stanza 2 line 5: I’m not sure this scans perfectly. It’s easily fixed.
Bravissimo, Brian! And when will these be published in a collection of your poems?
Sincerely
Mary Jane
Thank you so much, Mary Jane! Browning happens to be one of my three favorite poets, so I’m delighted that you see his influence on my work. And I’m especially delighted that you got the Shakespearian references. All are “Hamlet” — except for that brief snippet of “All’s well…”
I wasn’t conscious of the Carroll influence, but I did recently reread The Jabberwocky so perhaps a little Carroll lodged in my brain.
I share your quibble with the line “She whips a tear of joy, brushes blight red…” The stress on “brushes” is awkward. But I figured this was a nonsense poem and could probably handle the imperfection. If I was writing something more profound, I would hunt for a solution. For now, I’ll just consider it an ill-placed beauty mark on an already garishly made-up face.
Brian
In the Hamlet poem, I missed entirely stanza 6–as I copied and pasted into my own word document–a plague on these software programs! In many ways, it’s the best of all the 7 stanzas!
Most sincerely,
Mary Jane
Thank you for this, Mary Jane! It’s certainly my favorite because of that “Quite dead — until tomorrow’s matinee” line. It reveals the oddity of this fantasy space where literary characters are alive but purgatorially trapped within the work they inhabit.
So wonderful, Brian! You made my day, no matter what happens next…
I’m so glad you liked these, Marguerite! Thank you for reading and commenting! I hope whatever happened next was better than you expected.
I have to believe that Hamlet’s lawyer was “A Boy Named ‘Sue’ ” and Hamlet, the perfect Complaintif. Yentlgain, brillig work, Brian, though I do question whether Ephraim Gaffe enjoyed his bris. And Mrs. Malaprop!! At first, as with so many of your tantalizing horsed overs, I spent time Googling “Married at Blast”, thinking it was yet another term I’d never encroûterd. But uncontrollable laughter oeuvrecaned me and I had to fully give in to your unstoppable genous. Once again, Bravo!
Thank you so much, Laura! I can’t imagine that Mr. Gaffe actually enjoyed his bris (“briss” is a variant spelling which I used so that the subsitution with “bliss” would be more apparent.) But you never know. Hope you enjoyed your horsed overs!
Both poems are wildly entertaining, thank you. Great job and I sure enjoyed reading them twice.
Thank you so much, Yael! Your comment makes me so happy. “Wildly entertaining” is a wonderful comment which I will long remember.
Slime on you, Brain, for forcing us to clack a simile. It’s a rare ding when Dickens comes home to give us a boost. King Chuckles is trolling in his nave. But you are safe because you cherish the Savor.
This is so funny, Kip, I can’t breathe! I must remember more often to clack a simile.