Will's Sonnet 25

Behold mine sonnet 25, where I do offer mine tattered poesie as a vassal offers legience to his lord.

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As muche as your Will doth avoide playinge at gossip, the Gentleman Beelzebub doth conjure the image of one Ben Jonson...

Test thy mettle

Let us have a game, Groundlyngs! One of your Will his plays the Lord Essex didst command mine company to perform the eve of his failed rebellion against Her Majestie. Dost thou know which play we didst perform?

Shakespeare's sonnet 25

Betimes your Will doth think the love man bears for another might be the onlie true star to survive Time's scythe. This I do consider in mine sonnet 25.

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Needest thou an insult? Your Will hath thee cover'd! Feel free to share mine image or tagge those who do offend thee.

Sonnet 24

Behold mine sonnet 24, Groundlynges, wherein your Will doth paint with wordes the love one bears. Yet though lovers do see the frame, they do not always fathom the heart.

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Needest thou an insult for those that do offend thee? Your Will hath thee cover'd.

Sonnet 23

Behold mine sonnet 23, Groundlynges. Mayhap thou know'st how wordes once writ hath more weighte than spoken wordes...

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Your poor Will didst imbibe too muche sacke last eve, which hath made this Monday all too longe for mine patience.

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Belike thou know'st such an one at this, Groundlyngs, whose drunkenness is his best virtue. Feel free to tagge the wretch or share as thou doth see fit. As for you your Will, I shall tagge one @Ben Jonson.

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.

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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.

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Dost a love vex thee, dear Groundlynges? Prove she false, tagge her on this mine image or share as thou see fit.

Sonnet 16

Behold mine sonnet sixteene, where I instruct the Youthe to battle time

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Good eve to thee, groundlynges! Your Will hath passed a longe day with som clay-brained fools. Methinks these be but geese and not men. Feel free to share mine image or tagge those who do grieve thee...

Sonnet 15

Here is mine sonnet 15, whiche I didst write when musynge upon the weighte of Time on the saplinge that is youth...

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If some ape do trouble thee, your Will canst aide thee with this insulte of his mother.

Will tries Kit Marlowe's recipe for sweet and sour fish

Your poore Will hath suffer'd muche this eve, alas. I didst suspect this recipe Kit swore was from his familie writynges -- for sweet and soure fische -- would plague me. Indeede, it smelte of putrifactionne. Curses on that foolishe Kit, who dothe cooke as welle as Ben Jonson doth scribe.

Sonnet 14

Good eve to thee, faire Groundlyngs. (And to those of thee less blest by Aphrodite's kiss). Your Will hath walked about the evening streets and didst marvel on the starres. This mine sonnet fourteen didst spring from this wonderment.

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Good morrow to thee, Groundlyngs. Your Will hath cause to thinke that some jackanapes doth weary thee this day. Tagge the fool here or share as thou dost see fit.

Sonnet 13

Groundlyngs, your Will wouldst lie and tell thee that he doth savour the writinge of all these sonnets to the young manne, but as I am an honest man, I tell thee the truth, and pray thou dost holde mine words tight to thine own breast: this your Will doth do for the money for the nonce.

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'Tis Monday, and doubtless some knave doth vex thee at thy toil. Share this mine image with him or tagge him on Facebooke @ Shakesblogging.

Ask Young Will

Dear Young Will,


Why are you so funny?

Signed,
Belly Laugh

Dear Belly,

This 'tis a simple matter: Your Will is not Ben Jonson, who hath no wit about him.

Eternally Yours,
Will

*If thou hast a question for Young Will, do but post it here or aske on Facebooke at Shakesblogging.