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