(TK TRUMPET)
SS (BEERY): Lo, cometh a very valiant trencherman; a man of excellent stomach, come to stuff himself with victuals ----- make way there! Come and let's prepare a cozy booth and a proud repast to restore his manly vigor and his princely disposition. (BELCH)
GK: It's the Cafe Shakespeare. For a dining experience that combines high art and low comedy.
SS: Welcome, my lord! A welcome to this house!
JL (BEERY MAN): Eh? Come, wench --- you in yon white dress, thy hair molded helmet-like by hair net ---- what have we today? Speak to me of the specials.
SS: Our special be a salad of fair arugula and watercress from dappled pond new pluck'd,
And all so tossed with virgin oil
As the flower is anointed by the dew. We have a consomme', devoutly to be wished.
TR (BEERY): Aye, milord, we have cakes and ale, a pot of ale.
JL: Tis well, I'm sure, but do you not put forth a bowl of stewed prunes; I had heard such, by my troth, a princely dish of prunes.
SS (BEERY): Prunes, milord? Let us speak of venison, of meat and drink, of pippins and cheese.
JL: I must have a dish of prunes if prunes there be. Go, my page, go a-pruning, I say.
SS (BEERY): I say, Fie on prunes, milord. They only make you peevish and prone to gassy eruption.
JL: Prepare the prunes, I pray you, as I pronounc it to you, so they trip on the tongue. Nor do not chop the prunes into a paste of passion, but boil them gently to give the prunes smoothness. O, it offends me when prunes are whipped. Pray you avoid it. Suit the prune to the mood, the mood to the prune.
TR (BEERY): In me, prunes but produce foul odors. They do make me fartuous. May vultures gripe my guts afore I'll indulge in prunery. (COARSE LAUGHTER)
GK: At the Shakespeare Cafe, dining encompasses the whole broad range of human experience ---- the elegance and the poetry and also the coarseness and bawdiness (BELCH) ----and inevitably, violence.
TR: My beef, sir!
JL: Your beef? Did I hear you say?
TR: And unhand my potato!
JL: I do not see your name writ on this potato!
TR: Then you shall feel my cold steel in your middle as if you were a piece of beef on a skewer! (CLANKING OF SWORDFIGHT)
JL: Aha!!! And who is skewered now??? (THRUST, TR CRY)
GK: If eating out has become a little predictable for you, try The Shakespeare Cafe.
SS (BEERY): Well done, milord. And here, my lord,
A redfish, blackened,
bedaubed in pepper,
Baked in time's oven and striped from the rack,
Its finny goodness bestirred
By saucy cunning to a glorious outcome.
JL: Give us a kiss, good lady.
SS (BEERY): (WHOOP, LASCIVIOUS LAUGHTER)
GK: The Shakespeare Cafe. Poetry, belching, violence. Everything that makes a meal an occasion.
(TRUMPET)