Monday, August 20, 2012

Shakespeare punkéd...

Uck…Your Will hath passed a taxing day with the curs at the theatre. I myself was enacting Old Hamlet, when Nashe, Kit, and Burbage didst think it amusynge to leave me in the lift, tying rope to wench whilst they did laughe and scurrie off to the Mermaide. I found I could not hoist me with Old Hamlet’s armour as it didst weigh some seven stone. Nor could I crawl under yon stage as the space was not wide enough for poet, playwrighte, actour, armour and alle at once. *sighe* They didst leave me there with full bladder and wearie leggs to have a pint or three and came back makynge merrie, synginge all the while of some gypsie maid and her rounde risynge hillocks. I must finde me a way to make this game even, groundlyngs.

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