Will: I’m off to Westward Ho! to see the stones.
Ben: That sounds… exciting.
Will: It does? Good! Because I am excited by the thought.
Ben: I can’t quite see the attraction.
Will: Are you more of an Entomologist, Ben?
Ben: Beetles? I hardly think so.
Will: One or the other, Ben, one or the other.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Beetles, #poetry. #poem, #stones, #WestwardHo, #willandben, Beatles, Dialogue
‘Shakespeare in Looe.’
The Bard did advance from Liskeard
in a sort of 9-days dance – a la Will Kemp – stopping off upon occasion to compare things to other things.
Nowadays, he would have caught the train; but, then, he preferred to walk upon his ‘legges two’
‘Shall I compare thee to a five-bar gate?
Which is a useful item, at any rate.’
and the like.
With him was his trusty sidekick, Ben – a comedy duo they claimed to be, that went under the name of ‘Will & Ben: Renaissance Men.
‘I say, I say, I say’, quothed Will, ‘Is this a dagger that I see before me?’
‘No.’ answered Ben, ‘ ‘tis The Globe.’
‘ ‘The’ Globe?’ queriéd Will, ‘My wooden O?’
‘No.’ answered Ben, again, ‘ ‘tis just a public house going by the name of…‘ (SFX dramatic chords)
‘… The Globe.’
Ah, well, all’s ale that ends, well, you know what I mean, dear Ben.’
‘More than most; but, all in that only a little, my liege, my fool.’
‘Don’t knock what thou doesn’t understand, Ben.’
‘Knock? Knock? Spake thus Ben, bemusédly.
‘Who’s there?’ responded Will.
‘Ben, my Lord-loon, like as well you know it.
‘Ben, my Lord-loon who?’ asked Will.
‘Jonson! How many times must I remind you?
‘Thrice a hundred, more if there is a Tuesday in the week.’
And thus, with much ado, they arrived in Looe.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Cornwqll, #Looe, #poetry. #poem, #RenaissanceMen, #willandben, @Shakespeare
Will: I sent Ben out, yesterday, in order to get me a new quill for my writings. I carefully wrote my requirement down on a scrap of parchment for him – he has the dull memory of a golden fish – and off he went. When he returneth, he had purchased for me, forsooth, a brand new, second-hand quilt – at a considerable cost – I asked Ben for an explanation. He said that, in the market, he had read my list – of 1 item – and thought that I had written ‘quilt’. He, is a dullard. And I suppose that I am now to be known as ‘Wilt’ Shakespeare.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #BenJonson, #Elizabethans, #literature, #poetry. #poem, #RenaissanceMen, #Tudors, #willandben, #WilliamShakespeare
Will & Ben: Renaissance Men – a horf?
Ben: My horʃ, my horʃ, my kingdom for a horʃ?
Will: It’s a horse, Ben; ‘a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.’
Ben: Thou art so old fashioned, Will. How will anyone be able to read this rubbish?
Will: I’m not letting you trick me into admitting it is ‘rubbish’, Ben; I think that a lot of people are quietly pleased that I am keeping the old mother tongue alive.
Ben: Quietly indeed, Will – my mother’s tongue and my father’s eyes hath I – in this box, durst thou wan’t to see them, again, Will?
Will: Nay, good Ben, I have neither the eyes nor the stomach to spy upon them a second time – once was once more than enough.
(A pause)
Ben: ‘the sound of one hand clapping frightens no chickens’.
Will: One of yours, Ben?
Ben: A line that I have recently quilled for my ‘Every Man in His Humour’. I quite like it’s understated relevancy, Will.
Will: A palpable hit with the unwashed molasses, Ben, palpable in truth for a distance of feet.
Ben: ‘Two feet makes a distance much further than three.’ I shall use that one day.
Will (aside): Use it ‘and’ abuse it, I am sure. The fool shall speak it well, be that it is in your own voice.
Ben: Charming!
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Jacobean, #Jonson, #RenaissanceMen, #tudor, #willandben, @Shakespeare, Dialogue
Ben: Will! Will!
Will: What ‘tis, Ben?
Ben: Hast thou written a will, Will?
Will: hast thou written a ben, Ben?
Ben: No; but, seriously, Will – hast thou?
Will: No, Ben, I hast not written a… will. Shouldst there be a reason for my doing so?
Ben: The will-writer hath come to town.
Will: Ben! Will the Writer is always in town; except for when he wends his weary way back to Stratford. Then Will the Writer is in the country, Ben.
Ben: Very droll, Mr. William Shakespeare; but, if thou doth, please remember that you hath promised me of your second-best bed – it is a King James size bed – and wouldst well replace my old Queen Elizabeth size one. Will?
Will: I thought I said I wouldn’t leave you my second-best ‘bed-pan’, Ben – Ben being the shortened form of ‘bed-pan’.
Ben: Thank you, Willie Wormwood, Thank you so much!
Will: You are welcome, Bed-Pan.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Fun, #Jonson, #RenaissanceMen, #silly, #willandben, @Shakespeare, Dialogue, humour
Will & Ben: Renaissance Men – The Bill.
Ben: Will? Or may I call you ‘Bill’?
Will: Will, will do, Ben, or may I call you Edna?
Ben: Edna?
Will: Edna Bucket.
Ben: Ha! Very funny, Will. Edna Bucket! (Ben chuckles)
A short pause
Will: So?
Ben: ‘So’ what, Will?
Will: You wished to ask me something a few sentences back?
Ben: Oh, Yes. I remember. Will?
Will: Yes?
Ben: Is it your turn to get the bill?
Will: The bill, Ben?
Ben: Yes, Will, the bill.
Will: I, Will…
Ben: Great!
Will: Continuing- I, Will Shakespeare, being of sound mind-
Ben: Allegedly, Will, allegedly.
Will: Repeat, ‘being of sound mind’ have no intention, whatsoever, of letting Ben Jonson have another ‘free lunch’ at my expense.
Ben: But, Will? The bill!.
Will: We shall, henceforward, refer to it as ‘the Ben’, Ben. ‘Waiter’ my friend here would like to pay the ‘Ben!’
Ben: But, Will?
Will: No ifs, no buts, and we haven’t even discovered coconuts yet. G’day, Ben.
Ben: Oh, dear. Looks like the washing-up for me.
Will: My Second Best Bed? It’s in the wash. Why do you ask, Ben?
Ben: How could your bed be in the wash, Will?
Will: Second Best Bed, Ben.
Ben: Okay. How could your Second Best Bed be in the wash, Will?
Will: When you put your mind to something, Ben, you will find a way to achieve more than you could dream of.
Ben: Yes, Will; but, in the wash!
Will: Ben, Ben, Ben! It is a metaphor. My Second Best Bed is not a bed to lie upon.
Ben: I’ truth?
Will: It is a saying that says not the message that the words combine to form. For example: ‘My Second Best Ben is in the Ale House.’
Ben: You have another friend that calleth himself ‘Ben’, Will?
Will: No, Sirrah. It is thee! When thou are in the Ale House you are not my Best Ben, but my Second Best Ben. Due to the Ale that thou consumest.
Ben: Ah! Now I see; but, about your bed…?
Will: I lied upon it, Ben.
Will: Shall I compare thee to a lump of moss…
Ben: Lichen!
Will: Okay, if you prefer, Ben. ‘Shall I ‘liken’ thee to a lump of moss.
Ben: ‘Sigh!’
Will & Ben and the Invention of the Fish Supper.
Little do people know that it was William Shakespeare who first invented the fish supper as we know it today.
It’s creation came about in this strange way…
One night in Southwark’s more salubrious quarters, Will and Ben were downing (and sometimes quaffing) pints of merrry mead when the conversation turned on to the subject of food.
Will: Hast one a hunger, Ben?
Ben: Aye, Will; I hast a hunger for wine, women and song!
Will: Apart from those fine hobbies of yours, Ben, hast thou a hunger for the love of food?
Ben: Well, Will, now that you come to mention it… hast thou any thoughts upon what food we could devote our attentions?
Will: ‘Tis Friday, Ben; and fish is the recommended dish, is it not?
Ben: Yeah, verily, Will: good old English fish cooked in good old English water and served with a good old English apology.
Will: Usually, Ben, I would say ‘yes, you are quite right!’ but I know a place where they will fry the fish for you. I supplied them with a flour-paste coating for the fish – with special herbs – and they coat the fish with it!
Ben: Sounds disgusting, Will!
Will: That’s as maybe, Ben; but, I have gained a taste for it; they will also fry some of Raleigh’s Potatoes for you, if you like.
Ben: Was that also at your behest?
Will: Aye, Ben; I am something of a fish-monger as well as being a word-monger.
Ben: Okay, Will, where is this place?
Will: Up by the Battery.
Ben: Let is do this thing, Will; ‘tid Friday, and we shall suffer fish.
Will: Super, Ben; let us begone hence!
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Fish, #FishSupper, #Jonson, #RenaissanceMen, #willandben, @Shakespeare
Will & Ben: Renaissance Men
Will: A goose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Ben: Don’t you mean ‘Rose?’
Will: No., Ben. I mean ‘goose’.
Ben But, Geese smell… well, like geese!
Will: Very descriptive, Ben. But if a Rose were a goose, and roses were geese…? Do you see what I am saying? Do you smell what I do?
Ben: Will, sometimes you do speak a lot of nonsense.
Will: Quotable nonsense, Ben. Quotable nonsense. You smell like a dung-heap, Ben.
Ben: Ah! I see a dung-heap by any other name would smell- hold on, was that one of your insults, Will?
Will: Well, if I said that you smelled like a rose… you might have taken it as a compliment.
Ben: Oh, well, that’s alright then. Will. And by the way…
Will: Yes, Ben?
Ben: You stink!
Will: Touché, Ben. Touché!
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Jonson, #Renaissance, #Smells, #Will, #willandben, @Shakespeare
Graeme Sandford 