there's a time when poem's profane and theater's blasphemed, entitled only to an anomynous whom, unspeakable in court of kings and queens of vile conspiracies unknown. it is there, with words noble as earls, against swords brutally hurls, william proceed, shake spear:
who cares under what name i forebear or from which tongue i claim to my lovers and heirs. names are bare titles of vain, as decors and dehors to ladies, assume forms of every little man, an puppet, a mob, The actor, who acts and pretends as possible as it can be, that even hips and limps could produce a say.
I is a fraud, yet thine sees in vain. Behold, this man in crown of feathers, emerged from oceans wide, brought nothing but ruin. hear this , hear this, by tongues of immortal soul, who spat fires in thy mortal flesh, burn in hell you envicious basterd, knell before me and bear your lot. Quiet, Jonson and his sons, the world is deceived in this play.
i am as traped as you all are, oppressed unawared as a woman's life, outcast and forlorn as ghosts of no more, derided and forbiden as dusts filthy in disturbing eye. explain to me, what is the meaning of this conspiracy. trator, trator,for which i could not bare, dispicable fraud, charlaton, a countefeiter of wits, you stole my lines. even though, strike true, spare my pain, i morosely plea, now it is your words in play, your head should be, not mine, use it in mine stead. so i can rest in peace died your death while you live mine. so none of my words will carry my name. Never a voice in goverment, never a word raised in glorious battle. words, merely words should be my sole legary. you alone watch my plays and know then as mine.
praise to me! pay your debt to me with most wondrous laud. Envy me. Better me, in endless attempts to wipe my memory from all time. Shame me, you failed, such as world theaters of sham, shaking shaking, awakening as william the lord shake spear!