Friday, November 11, 2011

The young critic

As I strode towards the theatre this morn, some littel urchen approached me and asked, 'Art thou that Shakeaspearing Jack?' 'Am I a Jack, you Jack of the hewes?' I ask in turn.

Replied he, 'What's the hewes?'

'Household servants,' saith I.

'Who talkes like that?" he askes.

'Chaucer and Gower spoke like that.'

'Who're they?'

I loosed a sighe and straighten'd up. 'What didst thou want?'

'My da' says he lyked that Titus fellow, the one who cook'd up those jacks so their mum could eat 'em,' saith he.

'Ah,' I thynk. 'A fanatike.'

'Well, thy da' has goode taste,' I say, patting him on his pate.

'Ah thought it was a bit grosse,' saith he.

I left the urchen there in the street and headed towardes the Mermaide, fynding myself in need of a good ale after little Jack.

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