We have changed our privacy policy. In addition, we use cookies on our website for various purposes. By continuing on our website, you consent to our use of cookies. You can learn about our practices by reading our privacy policy.

Mac Flecknoe

(9) Mount Everest

Pack a bag, Shmoopers. In fact, pack a couple. This poem is long, with lots of obscure historical and literary references (just check out our "Shout Outs"). It's written in that weird Restoration-era English that mostly makes sense, until words start showing up (like "supinely" and "drugget") that haven't seen the light of day in four centuries. But if you can slog your way through, what you'll find is an extremely clever, totally hilarious critique of a bad artist producing bad art—a theme which will never stop being relevant.