A/N: So I attempted to rewrite Julius Caesar in pirate-speak. I never really went far with it, but here's what I've got so far.

ACT I, SCENE I

Flavius and Murellus enter and speak t' a Carpenter, a Cobbler, and some other commoners.

FLAVIUS
Get out o' har, gar! Go home, ye lazy men. What, is today a holiday? Don't ye know that workin' men aren't supposed t' walk around on a workday without wearin' their work clothes? Ye thar, speak up. What's yer occupation?

CARPENTER
I be a carpenter, sir.

MURELLUS
Whar be yer leather apron and yer ruler? What be ye doin', wearin' yer best clothes? And ye, sir, what's yer trade?

COBBLER
Well, compared t' a fine workman, ye might call me a mar cobbler.

MURELLUS
But what's yer trade? Answer me straightforwardly.

COBBLER
It is a trade, sir, that me practice with a clear conscience. I am a mender o' worn soles.

MURELLUS
What trade, boy? Ye insolent rascal, what trade?

COBBLER
Sir, please, don't be angry. But if yer soles be worn out, me can mend ye.

MURELLUS
What do ye mean by that? "Mend" me, ye impertinent fellow?!

COBBLER
Why sir, cobble ye.

FLAVIUS
Yer a cobbler, be ye?

COBBLER
Sir, Me make my li'in' usin' an awl. Me stick t' my work; Me don't meddle in politics or chase women. I'm a surgeon t' old shoes. When they're endangard, Me sa'e them. The noblest men who e'er walked on leather have walked on my handiwork.

FLAVIUS
But why aren't ye in yer shop today? Why be ye leadin' these men through the streets?

COBBLER
Well, t' wear out their shoes and get myself more work. Seriously, though, we took the day off t' see Caesar, sir, and celebrate his triumph.

MURELLUS
Why would ye celebrate it? What 'ictory does he brin' home? What foreign lands has he conquard and capti'e foreigners chained t' his chariot wheels? Ye blockheads, ye unfeelin' men, argh! Ye hard hearts, ye cruel men o' Rome, didn't ye know Pompey? Many times ye climbed up on walls and battlements, towers and windows—e'en chimney tops—with yer babies in yer arms, and sat thar patiently all day waitin' t' see great Pompey ride through the streets o' Rome. And when ye caught a glimpse o' his chariot, didn't ye shout so loud that the ri'er Tiber shook as it echoed? And now ye put on yer best clothes? And now ye take a holiday?