Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
There's a TV commercial for Tuck's Medicated Pads that depicts a hand holding a pen and checking off boxes on a notepad. The boxes say "burning," "itching" and "swelling." My question for you, Mr. Shakespeare, is where can I buy one of these pads?
Though your Will couldst finde some Englishe in thy tongue, so muche that thou hast penn’d didst strike me as Flemische. I didst take thy querie to a mastyer wool trader of Flemische line, who was muche confounded that I didst seeme to be seekynge out some printinge.
If thou doth seeke some printinge, your Will doth suggeste one Wynkyn de Worde, who hath studied under Caxton before him. The man hath no little knowledge of his arte, being the beste thou canst finde in London. Seeke him out on Fleet Street, and praye, begge him from young Will that he printe not these bad quartos of mine owne worke.
Dear Young Will,
What are some of your favorite insults?
You Will hath penn’d so manie of these insults, some thou canst observe here on mine owne wall:
For mine parte, I do think Hal’s insultes heap’d upon Falstaff are plentiful and want for nothinge:
Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look
on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace:
there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an
old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why
dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that
bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel
of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed
cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with
the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that
grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in
years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and
drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a
capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft?
wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous,
but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?
The answer, thou, doth rest upon thee, dear groundlyngs.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Here thou canst observe mine sonnet seven, groundlyngs. 'Tis a conceit about the sun which I doth use to urge the younge man to engender a child. If thou needest some aide to thy readinge, thou may seekest it here: