The Physics of Shakespeare

Why would anyone wish to defy physics, the truest science of all? It is like asking Einstein to forget everything he ever said and thought. I can easily defy religion and most nutrition guidelines too. When it comes to physics, I am adamantly resisting but I’ll play along.

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Shakespeare was writing one of his many universal sonnets — you know that the Bard is known throughout the universe and perhaps beyond — when all of a sudden the Bard ran out of ink. What the fuck, the Bard said using different words. By Jove, I ran out of words. I have to look at the Moon and the stars and pray for Romeo and Juliet. I could have kept them alive. It was meant to be a tragedy, not Tenth Night. O, my dear Moon, will you help me tonight?

The stars were bright that night, one of them even cracked a smile. Shakespeare was on their mind. The Bard was loved by everyone, even Polaris and Betelgeuse. There was no ink to be found during the night. Only tomorrow, tomorrow, will the Bard finish the remaining lines. Shakespeare tried to write with blood. There wasn’t enough readily available for so many rhymes. Wine was more abundant, but words wouldn’t remain on the page, disappearing as the Bard wrote every line. By Jove, I will forget the words. I need some ink before the Sun.

A rat trying to get some fare, saw the Bard and heard the prayer. By Ratatouille, I will do everything I can to help Shakespeare write the words, the rat swore and ran to find some friends. Even a cat heard the Bard’s dilemma and joined the rat in their pursuit to find some Stygian specks. They went from house to house through a panoply of holes, looking left and right for something black and dusty. Blessed luck was on their side since the Moon and the stars shone a treasured spot for them, not far from the town bridge. There among some trees and a parked horse, they discovered a mountain of coal. By Jove, they said. We found enough ink for a thousand plays and a myriad sonnets. Each one took as much as it could carry and they all headed back to the Bard, eager to paw him something perhaps better than ink.

Shakespeare rejoiced upon seeing the coal. By Jove, I can write now before the words are gone. Thank you, my friends for saving the night! I will try to include you in a sonnet or two. The Bard gave the rats cheese and the cat received some fish, but as soon as Shakespeare began to write again, the cat eyed a rat. The Moon and the stars disagreed wholeheartedly and shone on the cat. It got scared and ran out of the room and the rats cheered Hooray.

On his deathbed, many years later, the Bard remembered the night with the rats and the cat and asked the surrounding for paper and ink. By Jove, I have a new sonnet in my head. There is no maiden, there is no prick. Rats and a cat make up the scene.

April 23, 1616 - A Sonnet for Four Rats and a Cat