An Open Letter to William Shakespeare
How now, sirrah, churlish Bard, bacon-fed knave!
Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat who taketh the name “William Shakespeare,” take heed! Thou seducest the innocent masses into sin with thy profane plays and pompous poetry. We address our grievances in the style thou’rt most fond of: the sonnet.
Thy plays draw foolish sheep like flies to mead,
Deserting Sunday mass for comedy.
Marry, that time is better spent to read
That holy, worthy folio, ReadethMe!
To lull the mind with idle merriment
Shall push literacy into decline.
Thy noble patron in his golden raiment
Grows bored of poetry in which thou pinest:
Thy “Fair Youth Sonnets” published for his love
Replace with readEthme – a truer art!
Thy kickywicky’s close to heav’n above;
Thy fry as well from plague shall soon depart.
And when thou hast lost all, take one last blow:
Thy work attributed to vain Marlowe.
We pray the Globe Theatre burneth down posthaste.
The Editors of reaDethmE