Electric Shakespeare

Confusing, amusing, genius!

Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for your love, I'll bear from thee, and for thy hand is but a kind of bastard hope neither. And what may follow!
Weep I cannot, take me without cause; but now a little fire in a flint, I kneel and then a scatter'd smile, and cry you mercy, sir; and now pleased fortune does of the deed.

created by scott camac martin