Sunday, September 30, 2012

Ah, groundlyngs, love canst be such a puzzle betimes...

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Another guess who!

Another querie for thee! Dost recognize these wordes, groundlyngs? Who hath spoken them? Whiche of mine playes?

A rose is a rose...

Dost recognize these wordes, groundlyngs? Who hath spoken them? Whiche of mine playes?

Friday, September 28, 2012

Sonnet 18

As the weather doth chill here in Londountown, your Will doth longe for summer and for for love's gentle touch...

Thursday, September 27, 2012


Words, words, words: Your Will is most fond of this herbe wormwood. I present thee, groundlyngs, with this image of Dian's herb here, so thou might learne how we didst use it.

Need an insult? Will has you covered!

Ask Young Will

Dear Young Will,

Is true, young Will, where dost go a will thar dost go a way?

Whither were we

Dear Whither,

‘Tis an interestinge question thou dost pose, Lady Whither, one best asked of your philosophie than your Will, methinks. I hath observ’d many times than man wilt relie on will to force his way; yet just as oft have I observ’d him rail at the stars and gods when the way will not yield to his will. Your Will doth wish he had way to present a clear answer to thee, but the will of different men wills it not.

Alas, now ‘tis time for your Will to go ‘way and answer the next querie. ;)

Eternally yours,

Dear Young Will,

oh my god.........itna english honours mat jhaar beta.......pak rahi hoon MA karke..

Flemische Maide

Dear Maide,

Prithee, forgive your poor Will as his Flemische is lackynge. I canst onlie parse that ye hail the Almighty and thou dost mention “English honours.” Mayhap thou hast laurels bestowed upon thee? I do wish thee well in all that thou pursueth.

Eternally Yours,

Dear Young Will,

More art, less matter

Dear More,

Your Will hath been told that if ye moderns didst give a number of monkies your modern writing quills, they wouldst succeed in writying one of mine workes. I prithee, in this image thou hath sharéd, said monkies doth aid a cow to gather her some fruits. 'Tis most confounding indeed, though I hath given it much consideration these passinge days.

Eternally Yours,


Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Will's London

Your Will didst muse that ye moderns wouldst longe to see more of mine Londontown. Here I present to thee the gate of oure London Bridge. Thou canst observe Her Majestie hath been hack'd off of late, which doth explain wherefore she doth hack off so manie heads...

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Codpiece's coat of arms

Your Will, Kit Marlowe, Ben Jonson, Nashe and Dekker and the newly baptis'd Lord Codpiece didst pass the eve at the Mermaide, where Kit didst present Ben with a coat-of-arms for his cur. 'Twas suche merriment, groundlyngs! I present it to thee here...

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Meet Ben's Codpiece

After thy careful voting, groundlyngs, and after conferring with Ben and his cur, we hath found the beast answeres beste to "Codpiece." Kit is much amus'd and hath bestowed knighthood on the dogge with a bone, and now doth call him Lord Codpiece. Our champion, then, be one Summer Rae Banks. Lady Banks, please send your Will a message with thine lodging number so we may send thee some gifts, which do include our London mug, a poster of mine naughtie bits, a mousepad, and some other gifts.

Lady Jennifer Graves, as Dogberry was so near to being champion, we wouldst send thee some gifts as well. Please send us thy lodging information here or at

Congratulations and we thank all of thee that didst enter!

Friday, September 21, 2012


'Tis Autumn now, groundlyngs, and the hairs from your poor Will's head do tumble to the ground as leaves do from the trees...

Thursday, September 20, 2012

A rough day for Will

Ugh. Your Will hath pass'd a difficult day at the theatre. Richard Burbage did not care for his lines and thus quibbled o'er every worde...Kempe wouldst not cease makyng merrie... I hath not thought these wordes so much as I hath this day, groundlyngs...

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Wise Wordes from Will

How oft we do forget betimes, my dear groundlyngs! Your Will hath noted this on some scraps so I canst recall it...

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Shakespearean verb compounds...

Your Will is moste fond of joining wordes together, to make new wordes altogether.  Here thou canst observe a verb compound, which I did use in mine playe of Midsummer Night's Dreame..

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Need an insult?

The worke week creepeth upon us, gentles...if thou want for an insult, Will doth have thee cover'd. Feel free to share with those that do offend thee or tag them on thy Facebooke.

Name Ben Jonson's dog

My deare groundlyngs: I hath conferr'd with Ben to aske which of thy names he doth admire for his dogge, who needeth a name better than Dogge, which we doth call him now. Ben hath selected ten names but asks that thou do put this to a vote. What say ye? Which name dost thou favour?

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Comedy versus tragedy flowchart

Kit and Ben didst create this, one of your moderne flowe-chartes, to aide thee in the understanding of mine dramatis personae. What say thee?

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Good eve, gentles...

Good night, gentles. Your Will doth wish thee and thy loves well.

For those thou lovest...

Good eve, groundlyngs. Your Will doth know it taxeth the mind when thou seekest poesy for thy lover. Feel free to share with thy love, tag them on your Facebooke, using mine owne wordes if thou wilt.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

"Hot-blooded, check it and see..."

As thou likely knowst, Will hath been progenitour to many words and phrases ye moderns use to this day. In mine playe of The Merry Wives of Windsor, I didst first use the phrase "hot-blooded" to mean choleric or ill-temper'd when Falstaff didst crie: "The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on. Now, the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me!

Friday, September 7, 2012

Ben's animal farm

Ben hath left us early this eve at the Mermaide.  Your Will hath never observ’d him looke so worn, though Kit swears up-and-downe Ben doth always look so wearie.  We inquir’d about his state, his eyes bearing heavy curtains of lid.

“’Tis that dogge and …cats,” Ben sighed.

“Your dog hath birthéd kits?” Kit mused.

“No,” growled Ben.  “The cats hath birthed kits, and now the tom, seeing mother unburdened of the kits, doth yowl all through the nighte to woo her.”

“Ah,” your Will said.  “And this doth drive your dogge mad.”

“’Tis not my dogge,” Ben snapped.  “It doth tail me all about London.”

“Dogged by his dog,” Kit laughed.

“I sent the beast out to chase off cats, kits, and all—“

“You keep the cur in your lodging?” I asked.  Kit and I didst exchange a smirk.

“I sent the beast out to chase off the tomcat,” Ben repeated, ignoring us. “After some time, and no bark, yet still hearing tomcat, I crept out to see what transpir’d.”  Ben frowned and pointed to the dogge.  “That creature, having no sense and no instinct for hunting, bear-bayting, or cats, I didst espie near the wall, slumbering undisturbéd with the kits as father cat continued to woo mother.  Dost not marvel at this notion?! And yet this whole two dayes I hath not slept a winke.”

Kit howled.  “What wilst thou do, Mastyr Jonson, when the cats welcome rats to thy abode? For it doth seem thy husbandry is wanting and the beasts do forget each his place.”

“Come, dogge,” Ben motioned.  “Thou hath more sense than these two and art more witty in thy speech.”  Then man, with dogge tailing, didst walk out into the night aire. 

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Got a stinky friend? Wanna let them know?

Need an insult? Will doth have thee cover'd. Share with thy less fragrant friends...

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Hangover cure from Kit

Kit hath presented your Will with another recipe for thee, groundlyngs. This one he doth sweare cures what ye moderns do calle a hang-over. He boasts it doth contain both hair of dogge and feather of chicken. I do but wonder at the taste of it...

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Good eve, gentles...

Your Will doth wish thee a restful eve, gentle groundlyngs. I do thank thee for thy devotion.

Dear Young Wills,

I am having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around some of the people in this brave new world. (You might want to take a peek at a few days' worth of political coverage to better aid me with this.) Can you offer me any advice aside from seeing a dagger before me?

Sign me,

Lovely and Less Temperate

Dear Lovely and Less Temperate,

‘Tis fitting thou lookest to mine playe of Macbeth, which doth present the bloodie consequences of war, my sweete and less temperate lady. I hath peek’d in the broadsheets of thy modern age, and I finde little difference from our England, when Lancaster and York brought much strife and woe to our faire lands. When a man doth set himself a course from whence he cannot lean, he becometh like Coriolanus, swaying not from his pathe no matter how muche bloode he shed or how muche sense be lost.

To thee, then, your Will doth suggest that thou taks’t note of Coriolanus’ ende and take care thine own bodie and noble minde suffereth not. Clinge to thy friends and loves, and thou wilt find thy journey that muche the better.

Eternally Yours,

Dear Young Will,

I have a query can you help me? If you could make a more modern version of the plays would you? If you could use more modern terminology would it change the meaning of the plot & characters?

Your Elizabethan Englische Confoundeth Me

Dear Englische,

Thy querie doth remind your Will of the many days he hath spent, hunch’d over hornbooke beneathe the schoolmaster’s whip, with Latin set before me. Alas, I am that I am and canst speak nor write in any other tongue but mine own faire Englische.

If thou doth find thou suffer under the burden of mine poesie, mayhap it will unburden thee to finde a version of mine playes in your modern tounge, but mark: many of thy modern words wert engender’d by mine quill. I do wish thee well in thy quest.

Eternally Yours,

Dear Young Will,

Billy, got plans to party it up for this week's blue moon?

Galileo’s Girl

Dear GG,

Your Will hath passed the nights under blue moon, as he hath under so many moons, at the Mermaid with Kit and Dick, barmaids and Nashe, Ben and his dogge. We didst enjoy sturdie ale and wandered into streets here and there to watche the folke of London under the absurd moon. There were games afoote, to be certaine, those who didst foolishly believe their dancing under blue moon made them invisible to the eyes of men. Your Will hath been unwilling witness to many riders in the dark streets, but this blue moon didst give rise to much stair-work, trunke-work, behind-door work. There muste be manie a maide Monday morn who were sore from all this working. ;)

Eternally Yours,

Hastow a question for Young Will? Leave thy query in the comments and I shall proffer thee advice anon. :)

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The fire-eyed maid of smoky war...

Your Will hath been movéd of late to consider the historie of the wars of England and those days when Bellona hath visited our shores...