I did spend a goodly portion of my summer days in an exchange of correspondence with those who share mine interest in matters historical and yet other sundry matters of passing interest only to our own curious selves. Indeed have we formed a cabal of chamber-scholars who fancy ourselves well read beyond the ordinary, and while our converse touching on our pursuits serve only the tedium and annoyance of many of our peers, we take delight in our debate and pride in our illumination.

The issue is by no means clear, even in the modern tongue, whether "each of " denotes each one singularly or all together. Had I writ the original, I might have said "Each of ye may use..." but in my daily occupation, the imperative comes more immediate to my use. Thus: Use as many words or as few as thou wishest.

When I have found some way to spend my summer days at leisure, I will tell ye all at once upon recovery.

Much as it shames me, you are correct. In my pre-disportment haze, I did mind me that "each" was singular, but did forget that "of you" must be plural because it refers to the group wherefrom the "each" is drawn. I bow my head in contrition.

Howe'er, thou'rt not absolved of the task, Master G (ruffled-feather "thou" intended).

Summer? Were that summer in sooth? Little methought it so, with the chill fog mantling about us for the more part of the day.
Yet sith Lammas was a week past, summer yet it must be, and I - drest like a very popinjay (sic)...

www.flickr.com/photos/296...6826212100/
www.pbase.com/steven_sui_...ge/101858090
picasaweb.google.com/bcollie...58955346
www.renaissancefaire.net/20080...09.htm

...did do my devoirs to make glad the heart of Gloriana with mirth and verse, and never a sword to my name. Do pity me, ye kind gods.

Edmund Tilney did I thus present, Master of the Revels, and all clad as a Rustick Shepherde to entertain Her Majesty withal. I never held sword in my life, and defending an assaulted Lady of Her Majesty's Court, was soundly defeated by three minute pirates scantly higher than my knee, but very fierce indeed. My walking stick and book of sonnets were poor sword and buckler to the onslaught of their deadly blades, and with piteous cries I was cut to tiny pieces. "Tell him to yield," advised their father. "I think that's how it works." "I yield me! I yield me!" I cried, but what mercy hath a child? I was cut to... why, to ribbons, now I think on't, as thou may'st plainly see.

I even managed a couplet extempore: when one suggested that Will Shaxbard might on a time immortalise Her Majesty, I bethought me fast enough to allow, "Your Majesty shall never need a stage: your fame is written large upon the age," which as a couplet will not live forever, but it doth give me a disproportionate vainglorious pleasure, for I've been trying a year now to open my wit to couplets on the spot.

God be thanked that there be goodly servants like thee, Mistress, to see that we of better sort have leisure to pursue the things that make life worth living. Here's a vail. (Spend that penny not all in one place.)
But this to thee I wil confide: I know not if I did well or ill.