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A conversation overheard between Shakespeare and his former muse. "So many things hath turned to utter folly over the ages. Hundreds of years since I've penned pages and pages. What these ancient eyes of mine doth now conceive plead, 'Return to thy grave, Bard, for here you'll grieve." "In sooth, fair maiden muse, I know not why I am so sad. Perchance to dream, is this a scheme or have I gone mad? Enlighten me as to what's become of life as I once knew it. Bitter dregs are coffee? Bring me tea or I shall lose my wit!" "Fie to you and the darts of scornful glances from the eyes of natives half-dressed. Is modesty held in compromise?" It's accepted attire by everyone, nothing like in the past. "I shall not rudely stare, but I find myself quite flabbergast. What of the churl who spits venom into that man's face? Doth women in this day act like shrews? What a disgrace! Is not thy husband honored as both her lord and keeper?" Women are equal. She looks at him like she's the grim reaper. "The lady doth protest too much. That's what me thinks. A goblet of ale tis what I need, and then forty winks. That minstrel sings gibberish. Has he no pride in himself?" He sings a Christmas song about an elf who sits upon a shelf. "O, teach me how I should forget from whence I have come. I do not belong here. I need a draft to sleep and benumb. Romeo's poison was quick. Thus, with a tender kiss he died. To chamber I betide to cleanse this stain I shall not abide. Out! Out Damned spot! Thy splotch besmirches as if blood. Begone fore I hear my heartbeats pounding with each thud. On the banks of Stratford-On-Avon tis where I long to be, rewriting Romeo and Juliet so in the future he will decree... To Juliet when she says, Romeo. Romeo, wherefore art thou? The lad shall reply, "What do you want from me, you cow?" Dear Bard, you mustn't change a word of what's been written. For centuries women have read your lines and were smitten. "I shall nary breathe a word of this ill journey to the future. Thine lips are sealed forever more without need of suture. Back to the grave where I belong, most gladly shall I return. In eternal sleep, ne'er to dream of such time I did spurn."
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