Electric Shakespeare
Confusing, amusing, genius!
Than drops of rain. When did she cross thee with thy
lips to stop all hopes are butcher'd. My charity be
not so hasty now?
Well, well: but, if't be summer news, smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st not to murder me: and tell my daughter with him, I say!
Well, well: but, if't be summer news, smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st not to murder me: and tell my daughter with him, I say!
created by scott camac martin