Rich-urd Da Turd - Uh ShakesPeer Story Sed'n Ol' Days

CHICAGO - In honor of William Shakespeare's upcoming birthday, Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley has proclaimed "Talk Like Shakespeare Day" in the city.
Although Shakespeare's actual birth date is not known, many scholars believe it to have been on April 23, 1564, since the poet and playwright is known to have been baptized three days later. This year, April 23 is Thursday. In his recent proclamation, Daley urged Chicagoans to celebrate the occasion by bringing the spoken words of Shakespeare into their daily lives. Shakespeare, who died in 1616,

Now's Da winner of R disconten'
Made Glor Yus summer by Dis sun a York; (Sunna York? Was Dis? Okay.)
En a clouds that lour'd upon R house
In Da deep bo-sum of da oshun berry'd.
Now R R brows boun' wit victor-yus wreats;
R broos'd R'ms hung-up fur mon-Yaments;
R stern alarums chayng'd ta merry meetin's, (Merry Meetin' Never Seen One)
R dredful marches to da--lightful meshurs.

Hey, All did stuff is gettin goofier !
Look, We got the Read a Book already on
Cable Access! Okay!!!!!!!Jackie, Rememer' who
Signs Yer Checks! . . .

Grim-visig'd war hat smoo'd his wrinkld frunt;
En now, 'stead a mountin' barbered studs
Ta fright da souls a fearful adversaries,
He capers nim'ly in a lady's chamber ( Dis is goin' too far Look I' Gay Mayer an Alll But I gotta go out at night en all !)

To the lasivus pleasin of a lude.
Bud eye, dat am't shap'd fur sportive tricks, ( Dat Hooker Talk?)
Normade ta court a am'r'us lookin'-glass;
I, dat am rudely stamp'd, en wan love's madgessteey
Ta strut before a wantin ambling nymph; ( Jezzus D'll Kill me Wit Dis!)
I, dat am curtail'd of this fair pruporshun,
Cheated of feature by dissemblin' naychure,
Daformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
En Dat so lam'ly and unfash'nable
Dat dogs bark at me as I halt by Dem; ( en fine out wooz lettin' Dogs Run Loose aroun' here! I'll getiz Card Yank'd)
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain dese fair well-spok'n days,
I am determinta prove a villain
En hate da idle pleasures of dese days.
Plods have I laid, induckshuns daneg-rus,
By drunk'n prof-sees, lie-bells n dreams,
Ta set my brudder Clare-rence . . .I god a Mike n a Billy n a Johnny -no Brudder Clare-rence . . .and Da king Dat's Me!)
In deadlee hate da one against da udder:
Anif King Edward ( dat's a Ol' Cigar Ain't It?) be as true an just
As I'm subtle, false en trech-russ, ( Jackie Did Dat Basturd Kass Write Dis en Trow Id In?)
Dis day should Clare-rence clos'ly be mew'd up, ( Clarence Gotta Cat?)
Abouda proph'cy, which says that 'G' ( Dat's Fitzy Ain'Id?)
Of Edwerd's heirs the murd'rer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down ta my soul: here ( points)
Clarence comes. ( Comes Where? I can' wade'll dis day's over!)