Electric Shakespeare
Confusing, amusing, genius!
This night doth play the trumpet sounds: be mask'd;
the maskers come. All hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must have patience and mine shall. Hast thou, thus to reprove these worms for loving, that art his mate, make boot upon the number'd beach?
To sour your happiness, I must have patience and mine shall. Hast thou, thus to reprove these worms for loving, that art his mate, make boot upon the number'd beach?
created by scott camac martin