Well....this was done one night a while back before pop-up blockers were readily available.....

*Shakespeare on Pop-Ups*


Introduction

Recent reports have surfaced claiming that the Bard himself has, it appears, returned to his earthy brothers and sister, as a reincarnation. It seem that a twenty-two year old Berkley student was found, confused and roaming the campus, and furthermore, claiming to be the original upstart crow. Even more interesting, he kept ranting that Ben Johnson was an lascivious fake, and that Chris Marlowe should have been stabbed in both eyes. Throughout his diatribe he intently clutched a scribbled manuscript, thrusting it provokingly at the growing crowd.

This rage, of course, led to the young man's incarceration. A check of his ID identified him as David Lueng, hometown Pleasanton, CA, and currently an Environmental Studies student at Berkley. Under questioning, David claimed that the last thing he remembered was listening to a sound track of Elizabethan minstrels (a rather odd choice of music he admits, but an interest he has had all his life), and setting down at his computer to browse. The rest he claims is a blank, and he has no idea where the manuscript came from.

Hence, it was this manuscript(written in a rather ornate script) that led one of the arresting officers, who had an affection for the fine arts, to speculate that David must be the reincarnate of Shakespeare. David is said to have scoffed at the notion, and questioned the mental state of the officer. The officer retained possession of the manuscript. It should be noted that David returned home only to find his computer obliterated. The officer, convinced of his speculations, sold the manuscript to The Inquirer, subsequently printed in a recent edition. David Lueng is sueing both the officer and The Inquirer.

Herein lies the mystery. What say you? 

                                 

                                   Act II, Scene I: The Street

(Flourish. A gathering of neighbors and Marcus. Kathryn appears)

Kathryn:  She has departed? See you 
               what temper plagued her unnaturally? 
               Prithee, Marcus! Keep not this untimely 
               gossip from the fray. The lady weighs 
               heavy upon our hearts, and our ears 
               prickle with unabashed concern.

Marcus:  In sooth, concern? My thoughts 
             are your ears prickle with tales 
             to be spoke in haste.

Kathryn: Marcus, sir, mock us not. 
                Bait us not. Tell us, sir.

Crowd:  Yes, speak to us. Speak.

Marcus: Then I speak contrary to 
              my wiser self. Closer then. It shall be so. 
              I release the tale upon demand 
              how came about her fretful woe. 

              It came upon her, oft at night. 
              She'd commence still wearing glee 
              upon her brow. Yonder window 
              let the world in to witness both 
              her compliance and her woeful rage.

Kathryn:  Dear sir, what could it be that 
               makes one sail twix compliancy and rage?

Marcus:  What makes it so. But think neighbor. 
               Why pop-ups, dear Kathryn, make it so. 
               Pop-ups it be that drove our unfortunate 
               friend to this unexpected insanity.

Kathryn:  Fallen victim to insanity. 
               What path did this mania take? 
               Was it traveled fast or slow?

Marcus:  Her hands, they'd nimbly fly 
              the board of keys at night. 
              So content she'd be wooing words 
              upon the dazzling screen.

Kathryn:  And to browse no doubt?

Crowd: (in agreement) Yeh, to browse, to browse.

Marcus:  So be it, as you say. But they, 
               those loathsome up-they-pops 
               would not let stay her contentment. 

               A simple damn, firstly, did trip 
               her tongue, followed by still a damn, 
               one more time or two. 
               But alas, she could not brace her wrath 
               and it quickly tumbled into mire, 
               spewing forth "crud and crud once more." 

               Increasing the fervor of the click, 
               it matched the fervor of her wrath. 
               The mouse did pound upon the pad, 
               whence came, "God damn, son of the pregnant dog." 

                I heard her give cry to her son, 
              "Forward boy, to my side 
               and give me hope. What can be done 
               to rub these harried handbills out?"

Kathryn:  The answer was not within his reach?

Marcus:   In truth, it was within his reach, 
               but not within his time.

Kathryn:  So the selfish boy abandoned her 
               to this misery?

Marcus:  The truth once more it be. 
              And she did set forth to reconcile 
              her temper. But, up they popped 
              and up they popped incessantly. 
              All was lost. Now sanity was 
              the source of her abandonment. 

              She screamed. She wailed. 
             "Out, out damn pop-up" time 
               and one more time again. 
               The world's reason was lost. 
               The board of keys, set forth 
               across the room. The mouse 
               found it's death beneath the foot. 
               Once a screen so captivating 
               lay in unlit pieces strewn 
               tragically across the floor. 

               Further she leaped into 
               a downward spiral. Muttering 
               to herself," Up they pop. Up they pop." 
               And begging still, "Out, out damn pop-up." 

               From my window, all this sadness 
               I did see. . . from my sad window. 
               I must go hence, ladies. 
               Forth with, I must leave thee.

Kathryn:  Stay, fair Marcus. You tell us not 
               who beckoned the authorities?

Marcus:  I know not. Perchance her son. 
              It was not I.

Kathryn: Her manner upon her leave?

Marcus:  Ladies, let it lie at this. 
              When from out the doorway 
              she did emerge, she uttered only, 
             "May the makers of these fiendish
               up-they-pops rot in hell 
              along with me!"

(exit Marcus, Kathryn and crowd)

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