Hark! Tis William’s birthday. We must-eth set about to celebrate. I’ve decided I shall goeth all Elizabethan on your heinies:
I have stealthily acquired a vast amount of lace, out of which I shall maketh a vast and charming collar shaped not unlike those marvelous contraptions the learned healers of four-legged creatures placeth around ill and suffering canines. I shall weareth green velvet knickers, a poet’s blouse with sleeves bearing a circumference nearly equal to the ball that droppeth from Times Square on New Years Eve, and a wide-brimmed hat with feathers, which shall illicit glances of such shock and awe that the Secretary of Defense shall receiveth a rather odd phone call. (The feathers thereupon shalt be exceedingly large and of a hue which the Crayola Corporation now refereth to as “Vivid Tangerine.”)
I shall add the suffix “eth” to all of my verbs, regardless of tense or grammatical laws that seeketh to quencheth such frivolity. I shall speaketh in my very best Emma Thompson voice throughout the live-long day. I shall useth words like “doth” and “tis”.
Viola (as Thomas Kent): Tell me how you love her, Will.
Will: Like sickness and its cure together.
I shall watcheth “Shakespeare in Love”, “The Taming of the Shrew”, and “Romeo+Juliet” as many times as possible in this fleeting twenty-four hour period. I shall readeth nothing save sonnets written on aged parchment with feathered pen (except for, uh, this blog). I shall swooneth repeatedly.
I shall leaveth thee with a few small but piercing bits of the Bard’s own words, and a bit of comedic literary genius to warmeth thine heart and bringeth a smile to thine eyes:
A friend is one who knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep,
If thou wake, he cannot sleep,
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee does bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love…
This above all; to thine own self be true.