Electric Shakespeare

Confusing, amusing, genius!

To the breath is gone, and there they are like you as much, for your taffeta punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a nobleman should do. Thus ever did contain a thing not in position distinctly speak of nothing but vain fantasy, which is as dry as hay: sleep shall neither night nor day hang upon his pent-house lid!

created by scott camac martin