Petrichor
Well-Known Member
Hmm perhaps you’re right. Take 2
Two roosters, both alike in dignity,
In fair Spring Hill, where we lay our scene,
From ancient flock break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal coxcombs of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd roosters lose their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' outrage,
Which, but their 's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
How’s that?
