THE BLOG
05/25/2010 01:49 pm ET Updated May 25, 2011

Historically Accurate Pornography

From 1398:
Traveling Poet: I see a light in thine eyes, fair maiden. It speaks of mischief.
English Maiden: What mischief have you to bring me, master poet?
Poet: I would begin by reading to you from the pages of Boccaccio's ill-famed tome of licentiousness, the Decameron.
Maiden: [breathing heavily] Go on.
Poet: Then, I wouldst work upon thee with the words of our own Chaucer.
Maiden: [Tossing her head back and forth wildly] Yes?
Poet: [His brow dampening] Perhaps even go so far as to speak out his infamous Miller's Tale.
Maiden: My GOD man, you have me in a veritable heat all over my body. I feel I must rip open my stomacher or explode in flames!
Poet: Actually, that looks a lot more like the sweating sickness...
[Both collapse, dead.]

From 1702:
Extremely Attractive Manservant Dobbins: Is there anything you require, Madame?
Countess: [lifting skirts to reveal all of her ankle] I believe you know what I require, Dobbins.
Dobbins: Do I. [He advances towards her, grinning lasciviously]
Countess: Dear god, man, what sort of hussy do you take me for? I meant a glass of lemonade. As though I would ever sully myself with such inferior stock.
Dobbins: Of course. Pardon me, Madame.
Countess: And bring me my dildo.
Dobbins: Yes, Madame.

From 1793:
Marie Antoinette: Sir, I beg of you, show pity on me.
Executioner: Why would I do that, your highness?
Marie Antoinette: Because I would do anything. I have money, still, a little, and I've secreted away certain jewels, and...
Executioner: Would you do anything?
Marie Antoinette: Oh yes, whatever you required.
Executioner: Empress Catherine the Great anything?
Marie Antoinette: I'm uncertain what you imply, sir, but if it can keep me alive for my beloved children, I promise, I will submit.
Executioner: Whoa, whoa, you didn't tell me anything about kids.
[He guillotines her. No, that is not a sly euphemism for anything.]

From 1876
:
Servant: [Entering a richly-decorated bedchamber] Lady Whimsey! The cable-repair man is arrived.
Lady Whimsey: Show him in.
Cable Guy: 'ello, m'lady. I'm 'ere to repair the cable.
Lady Whimsey: Quite.
Cable Guy: What seems to be your problem, ma'am? [Grins suggestively] I bet I have the tools to fix it, if you know what I mean.
Lady Whimsey: My husband, Lord Whimsey, has informed me that the cables used to secure the gates of the stable stalls have all of them worn through.
Cable Guy: Will you be showing me the inside of the stable, ma'am?
Lady Whimsey: As you see, I am unwell, and must stay in my bed.
Cable Guy: I hear hay is great to lie on.
Lady Whimsey: I am under strict orders to stay abed. The kitchen maid can take you out to the stables, but as I said, I am far too ill to move. [coughs delicately]
Cable Guy: I bet I have an injection that could perk you right up.
Lady Whimsey: And what might that...[coughs violently, hacking until she is red in the face, her handkerchief stained with blood. Eventually she vomits into a waiting receptacle next to the bed, which seems to calm her]...be?
Cable Guy: It's a...a tonic. You should ask your doctor about it. I'll be fixing that cable now.
Lady Whimsey: [Retches].