Oxford (Rhyme Royale)

The Earl of Oxford, it is said today
was Shakespeare. Many devotees believe
the plays were sent to William, with good pay.
The scheme, well practiced, managed to deceive.
The line: "oh what a tangled web we weave"
perhaps a clue to the deception's breath,
which both concealed, and even onto death.

I'm skeptical of this outrageous claim.
Elizabethans surely knew the truth,
but knowing Will an actor, with no name,
by all accounts prolific, but uncouth;
they sought perhaps to mollify and soothe
their egos, thinking no plebe so unschooled
could write better than them, than those who ruled.

Go tell them Will, a rose still smells as sweet
when taken by a farmhand with a spade.
A maiden can soon sweep you of your feet,
be her a Capuleti or a maid.
Will's name, like Juliet's, can't be unmade
Let Shakespeare remain Shakespeare, I beg thee
and Danish princes be, or not to be