This is just a paper/ story that I wrote for my Shakespeare class that I didn't get to the library to print up, so I put it here so that I can access it from school tomorrow.
English 201- Shakespeare
MWF - 1-2pm
Her golden hair does shine and shame the sun,
And lips so red, that all the roses weep,
Her eyes, like stars, do sparkle, teasing fun,
My heart’s desire, a memory of her keep.
Oh speak, angel, my soul to heav’n shall soar,
Your voice, sweet siren, sooths away all cares,
One glance from you, my heart would ask no more,
That in your gaze my soul no ills would fare.
Yet beauty’s shine, a heart so cold can hide,
Cruel taskmaster, though you seem to be,
My heart in your fair hands does yet abide,
A toy, I fear is all you see in me.
Your sweet soprano, never shall I hear,
Speak with such love, my name, Will Shakesp-
“… Shakespeare?” William blinked, his dreamy smile turning to a confused frown at the suddenly tenor voice in his ear. “Master Shakespeare!” the voice repeated sharply, bringing his head up with a jerk to meet the less than pleased gaze of his grammatics instructor. He smirked upon gaining his attention. “If you are quite finished disrupting my class with your snoring, perhaps you might like to translate the next stanza into English for us?”
His face a brilliant shade of pink, William picked up his copy of Ovid’s Metamorphosis in Greek and prayed that he picked the right stanza. It was not God, but Christopher, who came to his rescue, however. As the teacher turned to glare at another student who was snickering loudly at William, he leaned over and hissed the lines under his breath. Sending a quick look of thanks Christopher’s way, he couldn’t help but notice the knowing smirk he returned. Blushing more deeply still, he cleared his throat and turned back to Ovid.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Will! Will, wait.” Christopher called after his friend that afternoon, as he ran to catch up. William sighed and stopped to wait. Coming to his side, Christopher clapped a hand around his shoulders and grinned at him as they resumed walking, his eyes alight with a look that boded ill for the twelve year old William. “You, my dear fellow, are smitten.” His friend crowed.
“I am not smitten, Chris!” Will protested indignantly. “She is, indeed, beautiful, but I would hardly spare a moment of thought more upon her than is required of me.” William said, decisively ending the argument. Christopher only laughed, waiting a few moments more until they reached the glove shop.
“Methinks thou dost protest too much, my friend.” he pronounced with amusement.
William simply glared and allowed himself to be pulled through the door of the shop, only to stop short at the sight that greeted him. Standing there at the counter with her mother was the very subject of their conversation. At the sound of the door, she looked up and met his gaze, smiling angelically at him and William felt a goofy smile grace his own lips. As her mother finished made a purchase, she made her way over to them and dipped her head in greeting.
“Master Shakespeare, how good to see you. And you as well, Master Marlow,” she added as an afterthought. William only turned a bit pink at the attention. Her smile growing, she batted her eyelashes at him. “Master Shakespeare, I was hoping you might do me a small favor. You see, Alice Stanton will be celebrating her birthday soon, and I was at a loss for gifts until I thought of you. You have such a way with words, I thought perhaps you could write a sonnet for her. From me of course.”
She turned to Christopher with a withering look at his snort of disbelief before turning back to William to bat her eyes again. He only nodded mutely and ducked his head as she thanked him and left the shop with her mother. Christopher dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the back of the shop with a sigh.
“She is cruel to use you so, Will. One day we will write a play together with a horrible witch and cast it in her image.” He offered, trying to distract his friend from his heartache. “Perhaps we will give her boils and excessive warts, as well.”
“William! Stop chattering and get to your chores!” William turned to his friend and smiled apologetically.
“I’ll see you in school on the morrow, Chris. And thank you.” Christopher only smiled mischievously in return.
“Don’t worry, Will. We’ll be famous writers one day and we’ll eviscerate all our enemies in fiction. ‘Twill be a just and eternal revenge.” And with a smirk, he left the shop to his own home and chores.