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Knowest thou such an one who doth vex thee with his verie looks, my Groundlynges? Your Will doth: Ben Jonson.

Will's Sonnet 43

Your Will hath passed a long day a-toiling, sweet Groundlyngs, but as I lay me down to sleep, I do but muse on my love for thee.

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Your Will doth finde that if a man speakes false, his storehouse of lies oft be filled from cellar to rooftop.

Sonnet 42

Here, sweete Goundlynges, thou mayest read mine sonnet 42, wherein I do mourn the pain of the scorned lover whose love and friend both hath betrayed him.

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When reason fails, mine Groundlynges, betimes a man might consider the "layinge of the handes."

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Wait say thee, ladies? Does the blood of man run cold once he hath wed?

Will's sonnet 41

Groundynges, hastow ever seen thy love challeng'd by a friend rather than foe? O, how such treacherie doth wound the verie soul of man!

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Betimes, your Will doth thinke it beste to thank the Lord that I am not Ben Jonson

Shakespeare's sonnet 40

Here, sweete Groundlyngs, thou mayest behold mine sonnet 40, wherein your Will doth muse on the love one holds steadfast though a lover still doth wrong him.

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Your Will doth thinke but we have all suffer'd a tiresome lover, one too filled with black bile to warm the heart. If thou knowest such an one, feel thee free to tagge him here.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 39

Here, sweete Groundlynges, thou mayest behold your Will's sonnet 39, wherein I do muse on separation of the selfe from the object of one's love for the greater glorie of the loved.

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How like doth attract like, O mine Groundlyngs!

Sonnet 38

Here thou mayest observe mine sonnet 38, where the Youth becomes the tenth Muse.

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Your Will hath no hair but more wit than Ben Jonson.

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Your Will doth pray no rogue doth plague thee in suche a way as would trouble thee, fair Groundlynges. If thou dost have such a flea that bites thee, feel free to share this mine image or tagge him here.

Sonnet 37

Here, sweete Groundlyngs, thou mayest behold mine sonnet 37 wherein your Will doth consider the love and happiness one bears for another's success.

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Betimes, my sweete Groundlynges, your Will doth wish the rubbish didst toss itself.

Will's Goode Advice: Advice from Villians, Fools, or Fit for a Kinge

Oftimes your Will have found that those who crow their majestie loudest are another beast entirelie.

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Dost thou know such an one, oh mine Groundlyings? Your Will doth know many suche simple fools.

Sonnet 36

Behold, Groundlynges, mine sonnet 36, wherein your Will doth resign to the loss of a love.

Will's sonnet 35

Here, sweete Groundlyngs, thou mayest behold mine sonnet 35. Hastow a love who hath hurt thee, and though thou mayest forgive, thy do hold to some spite? 

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done.
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authórizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing these sins more than these sins are.
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense—
Thy adverse party is thy advocate—
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence.
Such civil war is in my love and hate
That I an áccessory needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.

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Your Will doth find it sad, yet true that betimes the clothes do wear the man, not the man the clothes. If thou know'st such an one, feel free to tagge him on Facebooke or share this image.

From the recipe files of Christopher Marlowe

Kit hath finalie torn himself from sack and a-whoring to grace us with this recipe he doth swear hast been in's familie for centuries. Your Will doth not know Kit to be an honest man, but 'tis an honest dish

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O mine Groundlynges, how your Will doth loathe those men who, once emboldened by the drinking of sack, do invade the personal space of this poet. If thou know'st such an one, feel free to tagge him on Facebooke or share at thou see'st fit.

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Betimes, when some churl doth plague thee, brevity is the soul of wit, my Groundlynges.

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Need'st thou an insult for those that do offende thee, my Groundlyngs? Feel free to tagge suche an one on mine image @Shakesblogging on Facebooke or share as thou see'st fit

Sonnet 33

Sweete grounglyngs, behold mine sonnet 33, in which I do compare the Youth to the sun.

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Ah, 'tis Monday, that day when ye Groundlyngs doth return to thine industry to face somme clay-brained fool who doth vex thee. Feel free to tagge on Facebooke such an one on this mine image or share as thou see'st fit.

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.

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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.

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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.

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Your poor Will both know so many brainless men here in in Londoun, my sweete Groundlyngs. If thou be'est vex'd by such an one, feel free to tagge him on Facebooke or share this mine image.

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O mine Groundlyngs, your will hath passed a long day into eve with quarrelsome actors and half-wits who do call themselves playwrightes. I go to bed anon, having done well to keepe these mine hands to mine own person. Feel free to tagge on Facebooke those who do need this warninge shouldst thou be so misfortuned to know of such an one.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 31

Beholde, Groundlyngs, mine sonnet 31, in which I do think on lost loves. I hath these wordes imprinted here on the image of Sir Philip Sydney's funerary procession. I hath listed for thee here Lord Sydney's own poesie, his sonnet 31 from Astrophel and Stella which doth also speake on love and loss:


With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that even in heav'nly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, ev'n of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

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Dostow know such an one who makes thee feel this sickeness, my Groundlyngs? Feel free to tagge him or her on Facebook on mine image.

Shakespeare's sonnet 30

Here, deare Groundlyngs, thou mayest behold mine sonnet 30. Your Will doth pray that thou hast such a love in thy life in dark times that wouldst comfort thee just as the rainbow bringeth the end of the storm.

Groundlyngs, your Will doth often wonder if suche a woman shouldst come with a warning herald. If thou knows't such an one, mayhap thou shouldst tagge her on Facebooke so that the worlde may know.

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Betimes absence is the better choice, groundlyngs.

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It may be that thou knowest such an one, Groundlynges, who cannot hold his sack. Feel free to tagge him on Facebook, just as I do this Ben Jonson.

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Ladies, what say thee?

Will's sonnet 27

Behold mine sonnet 27, groundlynges. Betimes, dost thou reflect upon thy loves at night, so that these do make thy bones weary?

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Hastow an one in thy life who doth thinke his worthe more than the market wouldst buy? Feel free to tagge the wretche on Facebooke. Also, thou hast lost the game.