Shakespeare's Sonnet 22

Behold mine sonnet 22, faire Groundlyngs. Doubtless thou beareth some love for thine own dear friends that makes thee to reflect on the passinge of time...

Shakespeare's sonnet 21

Behold mine sonnet 21, wherein your Will doth praise the Youth for his beautie but must be true and call the stars fairer still. Though flatterer I may be, most especiallie where my purse demands, your Will is no liar.

Need an insult? Will has you covered!

Your Will doth hope for thine own sake that thou hast no Janus-faced friends. If thou knoweth such an one, feel free to tagge the beast on this mine image.

Sonnet 20

Behold mine sonnet 20, where your Will doth marvel on the Youth's feminine graces

Will throws shade at Ben

Thou didst not learne this from me, dear groundlyngs, but Ben Jonson didst imbibe too much sack this Saturday eve and left the Mermaid with a woman -- methinks 'twere woman, though mark me not -- who bore strong semblance to those monsters such as mapmakers do place in faroff lands

Kit's recipe for pickled herring

Kit didst cooke anon this Eve, and Robert Greene hath joined us to sup. Your Will was wary of these fisch Marlowe hath served and ate onlie of the onyons. Robert didst make a glutton of himself both on pickled herringe and Rhenish wine. When I left the two, he didst make plaint that his belly ached...

Will's Sonnet 19

Sweete groundlyngs, behold ye mine sonnet nineteen, wherein I do note those beings that do fall before the scythe of time. My rhyme will stand as monument to the beautie of fair youth.