Electric Shakespeare
Confusing, amusing, genius!
By thine own tongue was guilty of his sacred blood,
or with the clamorous owl that shriek'd, the fatal instruments
of fear of my soul from heaven, and fiends for food
to thee. Hold, there's a divinity that shapes our ends,
rough-hew them how we may fly, whither to go to the
ale with a touch: I dare you draw, and maintain talk
with me.
created by scott camac martin