Now is the season of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of Earth; And all the Reapers that lour'd upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums
chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now,--instead of mounting barbed steeds to fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-- I caper nimbly in an asari's chamber to the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
*lifts up his Mass Effect 3 Collector's Edition*
BUT THIS ,--that is not shap'd for sportive TRICKS, nor made to COURT an amorous looking-glass; THIS, that is RUDELY STAMP'D, and wants love's MAJESTY to STRUT before a WANTON ambling fan;
*points behind him to a barrage of green, red and blue cupcakes*
THIS, that is CURTAIL'D of this FAIR proportion, CHEATED of FEATURE by dissembling artists, DEFORM'D, UNFINISH'D, sent before its time into this breathing world scarce half made up, and that so LAMELY and UNFASHIONABLE that DOGS bark at it as it is halt by them;--
*looks at picture of Liara in ME2*
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, have no delight to pass away the time, unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
and descant on mine own desparity: And therefore,--since I cannot prove a lover, to entertain these fair well-spoken days,--
*raises fist*
I am determined to prove a villain, and hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
by drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, to set my brother Shepard and the kid in deadly hate the one against the other!
Modifié par TrueMadayar, 03 avril 2012 - 10:59 .
Retour en haut
:wub:
