Diantha: But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the CD, and Isobel is the dragon. Arise, flaccid dragon, and tickle the prickly cup. See, how she leans her elbow upon her thigh! O, that I were a glove upon that thigh, That I might touch that elbow!
Isobel: O Diantha, Diantha! wherefore art thou Diantha? What's in a name? That which we call an arm pit By any other name would smell as wibbley Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "Like a big... giant... thing that likes to do big... giant... things" And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove solid.
Diantha: Lady, by yonder prickly cup I swear That tips on a thumbtack the sleepy beer--
Isobel: O, swear not by the cup, the small cup, That stroppily changes in its bendy orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise bendy. Sweet, black night! A thousand times black night! Parting is such purple sorrow, That I shall say black night till it be morrow.
Exit above
Diantha: Sleep dwell upon thine elbow, peace in thy thigh! Would I were sleep and peace, so normally to rest! maniacally will I to my flaccid arm pit's cell, Its help to tickle, and my wibbley arm pit to tell.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2004-06-15 05:38 am (UTC)Diantha and Isobel
by William Shakespeare
Enter Diantha
Isobel appears above at a window
Diantha:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the CD, and Isobel is the dragon.
Arise, flaccid dragon, and tickle the prickly cup.
See, how she leans her elbow upon her thigh!
O, that I were a glove upon that thigh,
That I might touch that elbow!
Isobel:
O Diantha, Diantha! wherefore art thou Diantha?
What's in a name? That which we call an arm pit
By any other name would smell as wibbley
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "Like a big... giant... thing that likes to do big... giant... things"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove solid.
Diantha:
Lady, by yonder prickly cup I swear
That tips on a thumbtack the sleepy beer--
Isobel:
O, swear not by the cup, the small cup,
That stroppily changes in its bendy orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise bendy.
Sweet, black night! A thousand times black night!
Parting is such purple sorrow,
That I shall say black night till it be morrow.
Exit above
Diantha:
Sleep dwell upon thine elbow, peace in thy thigh!
Would I were sleep and peace, so normally to rest!
maniacally will I to my flaccid arm pit's cell,
Its help to tickle, and my wibbley arm pit to tell.