radical druid

Ok, so maybe it's a VERY strange question...but does anyone but me think that a re-interpretation of 1984, as a play written in entirely in iambic pentameter (much like Shakespeare's retelling of the Tragedie of Hamlett King of Demarke) sounds REALLY cool?
Any thoughts?
Thirteen o’clock and all the world is well;
Beyond the reach of the tempest makers,
Where thought and reason still may sway the mind,
And the conscience of a nation feeds not
On unfounded rumors of threat and fear
But seeks for truth behind innuendo
And shadow agendas for armed conflict,
Recognizing that in the doublespeak
Asserting the need to take firm action,
To rail against an unseen enemy
is but a diversion to cloak from view
the clandestine interests of the few,
so that they may be pursued without pause
and bankrupt the soul of a proud country.
Of course, it's a good bit of work.

And you might want further proof that I could do such a thing. Well, I have written another play in iambic pentameter, and here's a small sample.
From The Trial of Nesorna, Nesorna's Monologue, Act I, Scene 4
I can not say I feel as if reborn -
and yet, there is a newness about me;
a cleanliness of spirit that springs forth
from a new source, unknown and without name.
What words I choose can only dent the veil
of this deliverer that spawns such hope -
mere words cannot define this flash of light
that now illuminates my sorrowed pain.
Yes, pain, that wracking, scream of agony
which celebrates itself in birth and life,
I feel it not, but in its place I find
An agony of quite a deeper sort.
The pangs of transformation I now bear
bring me aware to planes of solid thought,
and in that heightened state they bid me stay,
to question of my place and of my fate.
‘Tis true, that once I sought an early death,
as a small child might, innocent, seek change
in this too often monstrous, hateful world;
my simple wish to end all pain for good.
I offered prayer and harkened to the Gods,
beseeching them to show themselves to me -
and wished that to their presence I could fly
or that they soon would take me from this place.
But whimpering days of longing are no more,
and with its cloak of cold and glorious bliss
this night has brought with it a wind of change,
and I am more resolved to live than die.
This wind, more like a gale, has brought me life,
and set me on a pinnacle of hope -
here, tempest-swept, I stand, my spirit strong
and am renewed and ready for this day.
But where to start in this great future land,
this new discovered world of strength and truth?
The starting is the easy part, I know -
as for the finish, therein lies the test.
The glow of reason may not light this quest,
this enterprise that, virgin, waits untried;
and treachery is sure to find me, too,
yet I must follow out into this wind.
For be it so, or perhaps not to be,
it is not mine to yea, or nay, command;
It matters not if heaven is the goal,
nor if to hell’s doorway the breezes blow.
If strength or folly, whether good or ill,
this changeling spirit offers more to me,
more promise to my dark-encumbered soul
than any specter from my past has done.
Therefore, I must now gird myself anew,
and into time’s wide chasm throw my lot -
not backward, where my spirit found its root,
but into the un-named and unknown now.
I am resolved to hesitate no more,
but follow that which beckons from beyond;
and move into what learned men have called
the history and quest of all mankind.
But quiet now, the dawn approaches soon,
and it will prove me wise man, or buffoon.
and so on and so forth ...