Ian Doescher - William Shakespeare's The Jedi Doth Return

’Tis but the name of thy true self, which thou
Hast but forgotten. Furthermore, I know
That there is good within thee yet, for thy
Great Emperor cannot have driven it
From thee entirely. That is wherefore thou
Couldst not destroy me when we met at first,
And wherefore thou wilt not deliver me
A pris’ner to thine Emperor.

[ aside: ] —Almost
I know not what to say, so shall I turn
The conversation unto matters that
Are simple to discuss, with no confusion.
[ To Luke: ] I see thou hast constructed for thyself
A lightsaber. Thy skills are now complete,
Except I see its beam is green, much like
Thine innocent opinion of my fate.
But still thou hast become quite powerful,
Just as the Emperor himself foresaw.

If green doth mark me as a man naïve,
I’ll claim the color proudly. Come with me—
My father, turn toward the good, and live!

Old Obi-Wan once thought as thou dost think.
Thou canst not understand the power of
The dark side: I shall be obedient
Unto my master—aye, I must, and will.

I shall not turn toward the dark, and thou
Shalt verily be forc’d to kill me then.

[ aside: ] Confusion, be thou gone. ’Tis madness, this!
[ To Luke: ] If that shall be thy destiny, so be’t.

O, search thy feelings, father. Thou canst not
Do this to me. I feel the conflict rise
Within thee. Let thy hatred go, be free!

It is too late for me, my son. I shall
Deliver thee unto the Emperor.
’Tis he who shall reveal to thee the true
And pow’rful nature of the Force. He is
Thy master now, and thou shalt serve him well.

Then may I say these words with confidence:
My father who once liv’d is truly dead.

O what a rogue and peasant Sith am I.
This turmoil in my spirit doth not suit
A dark and vicious warlord like myself.
My son a rebel—fickle-minded Fate
That e’er would be so cruel to have me see’t!
And not a simple rebel, nay, but he
A hero, noble, brave, and true, a lad
Whose character befits his parentage.
Were he within the Empire’s ranks employ’d,
I would be proud to govern by his side.
A worthy lad is he, of virtues full,
A Jedi Knight and pow’rful in the Force,
A brave, courageous, cunning warrior,
A shadow of my former, noble self.
Yet if he will not turn he’ll be destroy’d.
O shall it be? The strands of Fate do seem
To wind themselves about my neck as if
To strangle me and drag me down into
The measureless, uncharted depths of my
Beloved Emperor’s most perfect will.
Thus shall I drown within the dark side’s pull:
A murky grave to bury Vader’s soul.
The rudder of my conscience runs not straight,
Thus am I tow’d along toward my Fate.

The entrance to the bunker where the Death
Star’s shield controllèd is lies just beyond
That landing platform there. To get inside,
Without revealing our intent shall not
Be easy.

—Fear thou not. Chewbacca and
Myself have enter’d places that were far
More heavily protected than this one.
The tales I could relate—another time.

Na nubba nubba,
Weeva nubba,
Nozza wayza,
Yubba yubba.

N’ketcha ketcha,
Yuzza betcha,
Yuzza surra,
Netcha, netcha.

Suki, suki,
Nahgoh luki,
Nahyoo siya,
Ch’buki uki.

I prithee, 3PO, what doth he say?

’Tis news that shall delight, good Princess, for
It renders our assault yet easier.
A secret entrance may be found along
The other side of this great ridge.

—’Tis well.
So let us hence and find this hidden way.

[ aside: ] What circumstance unlikely doth befall—
A group of hardy rebels makes its way
Unto a battle with the Empire vile.
Such enterprise of pith and moment, yet
Here are we by these furry creatures led.
What unexpected allies! Aye, what strange
But needed friends these noble scamps may prove.
There is a saying back on Alderaan—
Or rather, should I say, there us’d to be
For now no sayings there are heard at all—
“There should for no one greater welcome be
Than one who is an unexpected guest.”
So do we welcome these small ones unto
Our great and just Rebellion, these who are
Both meek and full of childlike eagerness.
Yet even as these words escape my lips,
Another thought unfolds itself to me:
It is not we who welcome them; I err.
For ’tis their moon, their home, their dwelling place.
’Tis surely they who kindly welcome us,
’Tis truly they to whom our thanks are due,
’Tis certain they are far more brave than we,
’Tis verily their home for which they fight.
But still thy tongue, the bunker now is near.

[ to Paploo: ] Thou hast a back door found, thy hairiness?
’Tis well: from furry mouths come good ideas.

[ to Wicket: ] Ba’chua ba’chua,
Megoh ga’chua,
Megoh gennem,
Fa’chua, fa’chua.

[ to Leia: ] There are not many guards nearby; to gain
The upper hand should not prove difficult.

And yet it needeth merely one to sound
A loud alarm that brings the fleet entire.

Forsooth, then quietlike our moves shall be.

[ to C-3PO: ] N’unka unka,
Paploo flunka,
Heeza gennem,
Bunka, bunka.

O my! Good Princess Leia, I do fear
Our small befurr’d companion hath set on
An errand rash.

—Auugh!

—Fie! The little beast
Doth make his way unto a certain death.
Belike these guards shall blast him into bits.

And further: our surprise attack is gone.
We may not have another chance as this.