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.
I've also been besieged by harridans
Grumbling there's no work for older females
Once teenage looks and sex appeal have dimmed.
So, writing menopausal roles might help.
I've put those thoughts together and have sketched
A sample scene. 'Twould fit in any plot
Involving pumpkins, witchcraft, and dark deeds.
I'll choose a setting for it in due course;
Perhaps the devious Welsh or brutal Scots
Would give me scope for worthwhile theatre.
Maybe the Mabinogion would suffice
Or Robert Bruce or even King Macbeth.
All that is for the future, though; for now
Please find the stage directions, plus the script,
I do hope you enjoy it. Good luck, Will.
PS. Unless you think this too misogynist,
Please ponder how we'll cast for each gaunt witch,
A carefully selected chick who's a
Raunchy, arousing, flirtatious, cleavage-rich, voluptuous, erotic, exotic, obliging, irresistible, titillating, beddable
Floozy!
WITCHES' SCENE, including stage directions.
By William Shakespeare, Esq. of Stratford
Crone crouching by cauldron. Enter Hag.
Crone:
Welcome, weird sister. Got all the shopping?
Hag:
Indeed. All poison'd entrails were in stock.
Nose of Turk and Dragon's scale were pricey,
But adder's fork, bat's wool, and lizard's leg
Were inexpensive. Into our cauldron
They all go.
Harpy, entering:
Gadzooks, this needs sexing up!
Here's lecher's cock in sexpot's orifice,
Castrato's balls, virago's clit, and tits,
Old virgin's hymen, labia, and fourchette,
Sperm of libertines amassed from blowjobs.
Hag:
Great. Ready to chant our ghoulish spell?
Crone, shrieking:
SSSTTTOOOPPP!
Pause. Puzzled looks.
All:
Bugger, we forgot the bloody pumpkin.
Exeunt omnes.
....,..............
