"Hot-blooded, check it and see..."

As thou likely knowst, Will hath been progenitour to many words and phrases ye moderns use to this day. In mine playe of The Merry Wives of Windsor, I didst first use the phrase "hot-blooded" to mean choleric or ill-temper'd when Falstaff didst crie: "The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on. Now, the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me!

Ben's animal farm

Ben hath left us early this eve at the Mermaide.  Your Will hath never observ’d him looke so worn, though Kit swears up-and-downe Ben doth always look so wearie.  We inquir’d about his state, his eyes bearing heavy curtains of lid.

“’Tis that dogge and …cats,” Ben sighed.

“Your dog hath birthéd kits?” Kit mused.

“No,” growled Ben.  “The cats hath birthed kits, and now the tom, seeing mother unburdened of the kits, doth yowl all through the nighte to woo her.”

“Ah,” your Will said.  “And this doth drive your dogge mad.”

“’Tis not my dogge,” Ben snapped.  “It doth tail me all about London.”

“Dogged by his dog,” Kit laughed.

“I sent the beast out to chase off cats, kits, and all—“

“You keep the cur in your lodging?” I asked.  Kit and I didst exchange a smirk.

“I sent the beast out to chase off the tomcat,” Ben repeated, ignoring us. “After some time, and no bark, yet still hearing tomcat, I crept out to see what transpir’d.”  Ben frowned and pointed to the dogge.  “That creature, having no sense and no instinct for hunting, bear-bayting, or cats, I didst espie near the wall, slumbering undisturbéd with the kits as father cat continued to woo mother.  Dost not marvel at this notion?! And yet this whole two dayes I hath not slept a winke.”

Kit howled.  “What wilst thou do, Mastyr Jonson, when the cats welcome rats to thy abode? For it doth seem thy husbandry is wanting and the beasts do forget each his place.”

“Come, dogge,” Ben motioned.  “Thou hath more sense than these two and art more witty in thy speech.”  Then man, with dogge tailing, didst walk out into the night aire. 

Got a stinky friend? Wanna let them know?

Need an insult? Will doth have thee cover'd. Share with thy less fragrant friends...

Hangover cure from Kit

Kit hath presented your Will with another recipe for thee, groundlyngs. This one he doth sweare cures what ye moderns do calle a hang-over. He boasts it doth contain both hair of dogge and feather of chicken. I do but wonder at the taste of it...

Good eve, gentles...

Your Will doth wish thee a restful eve, gentle groundlyngs. I do thank thee for thy devotion.

Dear Young Wills,

I am having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around some of the people in this brave new world. (You might want to take a peek at a few days' worth of political coverage to better aid me with this.) Can you offer me any advice aside from seeing a dagger before me?

Sign me,

Lovely and Less Temperate

Dear Lovely and Less Temperate,

‘Tis fitting thou lookest to mine playe of Macbeth, which doth present the bloodie consequences of war, my sweete and less temperate lady. I hath peek’d in the broadsheets of thy modern age, and I finde little difference from our England, when Lancaster and York brought much strife and woe to our faire lands. When a man doth set himself a course from whence he cannot lean, he becometh like Coriolanus, swaying not from his pathe no matter how muche bloode he shed or how muche sense be lost.

To thee, then, your Will doth suggest that thou taks’t note of Coriolanus’ ende and take care thine own bodie and noble minde suffereth not. Clinge to thy friends and loves, and thou wilt find thy journey that muche the better.

Eternally Yours,
Will



Dear Young Will,

I have a query can you help me? If you could make a more modern version of the plays would you? If you could use more modern terminology would it change the meaning of the plot & characters?

Signed,
Your Elizabethan Englische Confoundeth Me



Dear Englische,

Thy querie doth remind your Will of the many days he hath spent, hunch’d over hornbooke beneathe the schoolmaster’s whip, with Latin set before me. Alas, I am that I am and canst speak nor write in any other tongue but mine own faire Englische.

If thou doth find thou suffer under the burden of mine poesie, mayhap it will unburden thee to finde a version of mine playes in your modern tounge, but mark: many of thy modern words wert engender’d by mine quill. I do wish thee well in thy quest.

Eternally Yours,
Will

Dear Young Will,

Billy, got plans to party it up for this week's blue moon?

Singed,
Galileo’s Girl



Dear GG,

Your Will hath passed the nights under blue moon, as he hath under so many moons, at the Mermaid with Kit and Dick, barmaids and Nashe, Ben and his dogge. We didst enjoy sturdie ale and wandered into streets here and there to watche the folke of London under the absurd moon. There were games afoote, to be certaine, those who didst foolishly believe their dancing under blue moon made them invisible to the eyes of men. Your Will hath been unwilling witness to many riders in the dark streets, but this blue moon didst give rise to much stair-work, trunke-work, behind-door work. There muste be manie a maide Monday morn who were sore from all this working. ;)

Eternally Yours,
Will



Hastow a question for Young Will? Leave thy query in the comments and I shall proffer thee advice anon. :)

The fire-eyed maid of smoky war...

Your Will hath been movéd of late to consider the historie of the wars of England and those days when Bellona hath visited our shores...