Signior Dougaldo, many a time and oft
In the classroom you have rated me,
About my laughter and my eloquence;
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For nonchalance is the badge of all our class.
You call me gossip-monger, loose-tongued wretch,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well, then, it appears you need my help:
Go to, then: you come to me and say,
"'Marp'rie, we would have articles," so say
You, that did void your spleen upon my head.
Magazine is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
"Hath a wretch words? Is it possible a wretch
Can write an article? Or
Should I, bending low, with bated breath and whispering humbleness,
"Fair sir, you kept me in on Tuesday last,
You warned me such a day; another time
You called me dope, and for these courtesies
I'll give you writings?"