Gentles, a joyful Midsummer to you all: fair befall ye this long day and this brief night.
The inconstant Moon is at her full tomorrow eve, and like a scurvy politician, doth delight to seem greater than she is. If thou look'st upon her, thou wilt sure run lunatic: I have warn'd thee, and now leave thee to thine own midsummer madness.
Posted by Shakespeare at June 21, 2005 10:44 PMMaster will, thou doest a great service to your earth-bound brethren in thusly transposing the idle doings and vain concerns of our day into the melodic language of your own art. I hope to partake often of your bloggery!
Posted by: JaneFan at June 25, 2005 12:05 AM