Electric Shakespeare

Confusing, amusing, genius!

Behold thy fill. Nay, I am for you, and for a robe, about her to my guard. So, Dolabella, it shall ne'er be seen. Under yond yew-trees lay thee all his quiver in Venice, if it be denied, will much delight in. He tells thee so again, to spit on thee I will believe thou hast not so holy-cruel: love is never link'd to the Jude; give it to my face.

created by scott camac martin