Dear Will, Long time no see. I hope you're in the pink.
It's ages since we got together for a drink.
We need to have some urgent talks about your play.
'Twas long ago, your last one saw the light of day.
And once we've finished business, we can raise some hell.
I've had great times with tasty wenches in The Bell.
Their talents and techniques are very hard to beat.
They even bring a man to climax with their feet!
Remember that you've had a pretty good advance,
So now is not the time to fall into a trance.
In short, I want to see some progress pretty quick.
You need it, too. Don't let me down. Best wishes, Nick.
Dear Nick, I'm appalled that you plan
To make a sex cheat of my man.
Stay well clear of Will
Who's been rather ill.
I don't want to see you, Bye! Anne.
Dear Nick, I'm sorry this is in blank verse.
I have to write in this mode all the time
So now I cannot even think in prose!
(By the way, I loved your clever Alexandrine.)
It's clear that Anne is most annoyed with you.
She seems to denigrate you all the time.
You haven't made a pass at her, have you?
I'd stay away for now to let things cool.
If you had tried to tempt Anne into bed,
You would have been quite ill-advised, I fear.
Like me, you would have suffered much regret.
In bed with me, she's supine, rigid, sulks,
Accepting sex but only lifelessly,
And telling me to get it finished quick.
I guess she thinks the housework much more fun.
So, Anne's libido leaves me unimpressed.
Frankly, I can't get no satisfaction.
(That's quite a good line, isn't it? I bet
That in centuries ahead, somebody
Will claim they wrote it - but we know better.)
Meanwhile, I'm sorry writing's been so slow.
I'll call it "writer's block"; few thoughts have come
Into my mind. I'm tired of fantasies.
Enough of Lear's leer, Titania's tits.
So far, I haven't written bawdy plays.
I'm tired of pleasing condescending snobs
And fancy tempting randy Stratford lads,
With their jeunes filles to put their bums on seats.
So out with the un-Wise plays wot I wrote;
Instead, sex-sational spectaculars.