Two households, both alike indignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;
Whose misadventures and pitiful overthrows
Doth with their depth bury their parents' strife.
The frightful passage of their pock-marked desire,
And the continuance of their parents' glee,
Which persisted, despite their children's ire,
Is now the pages of blogging you will see;
The which if you with patient eyes attend,
What humour you doth miss in life, our toil shall strive to mend.
Off the frying pan, into the fire.
The consequences of love are dire.
My heart's squelched in rotting mire.
Am I mouse or frikkin' squire?
No wonder that cheapskate Shakespeare never rhymed. Iambic meter sounds a whole lot better.
