Six Duels
My mood despite the attentive care of Juliet and the doctor Martha hast sunk with the heavy weight of a new woe unto the City. Caspian, a youth much like a diamond in the rough whom is as dear to me as blood, has been spirited away from this place. Would that I should be glad that my cousin remains. Poor indeed be the day when I am alone, or Juliet. Still I find myself in an ill mood. It is unmatching of my replenished health. Primo! For you, I play a tune.
This day I feel I am as strong as two Tybalts. Clearly now I am capable. Am I not? Days prior I would sulk and wince. No longer! Such duels with questionable fair folk are at an end. Where I in Verona, I would wish my life's end in such a shameful loss even if I drew my sword to defend a lady's honor. Such a loss by a Capulet name is unheard of. Yet in the City the ears have seen and the eye heard of Tybalt crowned not with the garland of fig leaves, neigh he did wander scratched and heavy shouldered back to his abode. In the long, lingering hours of mine solitary recovery, methinks a thing humbling. More black and odious things do exist. For Tybalt has lost, but not to a Montague. Tybalt hath lived through a magiced wrath to tell his tail. Oh, the day when I should have the same satisfaction. For do we not all start out so insignificant. Whilst I will ne'er be as great as the God in heaven, mayhaps I could gain the power of an enchanted being.... Enough fanciful talk.
Cindy! Ah, me, such a name so simple and right to say like a sigh. Art thou well met this day?
This day I feel I am as strong as two Tybalts. Clearly now I am capable. Am I not? Days prior I would sulk and wince. No longer! Such duels with questionable fair folk are at an end. Where I in Verona, I would wish my life's end in such a shameful loss even if I drew my sword to defend a lady's honor. Such a loss by a Capulet name is unheard of. Yet in the City the ears have seen and the eye heard of Tybalt crowned not with the garland of fig leaves, neigh he did wander scratched and heavy shouldered back to his abode. In the long, lingering hours of mine solitary recovery, methinks a thing humbling. More black and odious things do exist. For Tybalt has lost, but not to a Montague. Tybalt hath lived through a magiced wrath to tell his tail. Oh, the day when I should have the same satisfaction. For do we not all start out so insignificant. Whilst I will ne'er be as great as the God in heaven, mayhaps I could gain the power of an enchanted being.... Enough fanciful talk.
Cindy! Ah, me, such a name so simple and right to say like a sigh. Art thou well met this day?