Shakespeare's Sonnet 32

Deare Groundlygs, your Will doth pray that though his poesie betimes doth fail his Muse you forgive him and know that these thinges I hath writ with no little love for thee.

Need an insult? Will's got you covered!

Your Will doth thinke but reason and good companie are rare parties indeed. Feel free to share mine this image or tagge such an one who hath no wit about him.

Need an insult? Will's got you covered!

Dostow grow weary of the dull wits of men thou know'st, mine Groundlynges? Feel free to tagge those who do but try thy patience if thou desireth on Facebooke.