TM 173, Write a fan letter?!

Deyre Master Shakespeare, I have raised this Quill,
To let thee know that I have meant no ill,
In my appearance (which then led to funne)
In thy new play, to wit, “Love’s Labours Wonne.”
I learned thy tongue while passing through the land,
While one King James his modern bible planned.
(A book that could be kept in manse or dwelling,
And gave thy folk their first idea of spelling.
A thought that has some merit, in this time.
Although mine words do not match well to thine!)

Thou art a bard whom many do respect,
Nor would my hasty words thy plays reject,
(Though Juliet and Ophelia go to waste,
And Hamlet is too bloody for mine taste.)
I wryte now to appreciate thy plays,
And tell thee, in my view they will amaze,
When centuries have passed away and gone,
And speech like thine is like the throstle's song,
(Pleasant enough to hear, but at their gleaning,
The groundlings strain to ken a little meaning.

I do not tell thee false, nor any man
Will heare untruth from me, but while I can,
I tell thee why thy cast broke into song,
Those who call spirits may do very wrong,
(Although the best of them may pay the price,
and make themselves the summoning sacrifice, )

On finding amulets when they chance to drop,
I tell thee, do not use them as a prop!

We are agreed, thy world is but a stage,
But if thou wouldst avoid a singer’s rage,
Use not real jewellery in such a way,
Nor sing the summons that is on display,
And if thou wouldst bring thine admirer joy,
have not thy fairest maid played by a boy!


Post scriptum,

In fact, thou led'st to an frustrating day...
I tell thee as a critic, scrap that play!