Score

Oh yes - bring it on. My kinda list.

:O)

Teehee. Ditto! :)

Hamlet?!

Absolutely!

From the "closet" scene between Hamlet and Gertrude (Act III, Scene 4 -- to quote just one, and probably the most obvious example):

"Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it love; for at your age
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
But it reserved some quantity of choice,
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn
And reason panders will.

(..)

Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
Over the nasty sty,--

(...)

Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
To make them ranker.

(...)

Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
Make you to ravel all this matter out,
That I essentially am not in madness,
But mad in craft."

(I particularly love the bit about living "In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love over the nasty sty" ... but essentially Hamlet showers Gertrude with a whole lot of the same stuff during that scene, and there is plenty more, from Hamlet AS WELL as from Laertes and Polonius, with regard to Ophelia as well.)

Well argued! I'm impressed and convinced. Smut it is.

From before the "play within the play" (Act III, Scene 2):

"HAMLET
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

OPHELIA
No, my lord.

HAMLET
I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA
Ay, my lord.

HAMLET
Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA
I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET
That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

OPHELIA
What is, my lord?

HAMLET
Nothing."

Yeah, I remember the wonderful country scene. Just couldn't remember anything else, and wasn't sure a little word play was enough (especially when we have Chaucer, the all-time king of That Word, right here). But don't worry, I"m sold.

From Laertes's "farewell" scene (Act I, Scene 3):

LAERTES
Think it no more;
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will:
(...)
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

(...)

OPHELIA
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

LORD POLONIUS
Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

OPHELIA
I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

LORD POLONIUS
Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool.

OPHELIA
My lord, he hath importuned me with love
In honourable fashion.

LORD POLONIUS
Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.

OPHELIA
And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

LORD POLONIUS
Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
You must not take for fire. From this time
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate
Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe so much in him, that he is young
And with a larger tether may he walk
Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
Not of that dye which their investments show,
But mere implorators of unholy suits,
Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
The better to beguile."

Alex wrote: "Yeah, I remember the wonderful country scene. Just couldn't remember anything else, and wasn't sure a little word play was enough (especially when we have Chaucer, the all-time king of That Word, ..."

Oops, sorry, definitely consider my last post an exercise in overkill then. My humblest apologies! I tend to go overboard on occasion when it comes to my favorite play ...

Wow, that site is impressive.

And don't worry: Hamlet may be second to Lear for me, but there's no such thing as overkill when one is analyzing Hamlet for smuttiness.

It was fun compiling the site (and I went darn near "mad with coller" when the external hard drive storing it was damaged).

Let "Hamlet" then be officially registered among the great smutty classics of literary history! :)

And I won't even go near arguing the literary merits of one Shakespearian tragedy vs. another one ... if it comes to that, Shakespeare outguns pretty much everybody else anyway, and with plenty of room to spare -- serpent's teeth be damned!

Yeah, having lost like an hour's worth of writing recently, I can't imagine what two years' worth must have felt like. Crushing.

I agree: while there may be single works that stand with Shakespeare (I like Paradise Lost pretty well, for example), as a whole oeuvre, the man can't be beat.

For some reason this list reminds me of a song in The Music Man, complaining about dirty books like "Balzac!"

Of course!!!

Alma:
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more

Alma and Ethel:
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little,
talk a little, cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more

All the ladies:
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little,
talk a little, cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more

Maud:
Professor, her kind of woman doesn't belong on any committee.
Of course, I shouldn't tell you this but she advocates dirty books.

Harold:
Dirty books?!

Alma:
Chaucer

Ethel:
Rabelais

Eulalie:
Balzac!

Maud:
And the worst thing
Of course, I shouldn't tell you this but-

Alma:
I'll tell.

Ethel:
The man lived on my street, let me tell.

Eulalie:
Stop! I'll tell.
She made brazen overtures to a man who never
had a friend in this town till she came here.

Alma:
Oh, yes
That woman made brazen overtures
With a gilt-edged guarantee
She had a golden glint in her eye
And a silver voice with a counterfeit ring

Just melt her down and you'll reveal
A lump of lead as cold as steel
Here, where a woman's heart should be!

Eulalie, Ethel, Maud, Alma, Mrs Squires:
He left River City the Library building
But he left all the books to her

Alma:
Chaucer

Ethel:
Rabelais

Eulalie:
Bal-zac!

Ladies:
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more
Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
Cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep
Cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep
Cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep
Pick a little, talk a little, cheep!