The Ladies Faire

Who is’t then that makes us sigh,
With care, and joy, and angst?
Who rules all the days?
With beguiling ways,
Standing firm, the rough winds, against?

Hear what I say, listen to me,
Chaos, chaos, everywhere!
The reasons you’ll see, friend.
Are from Shakespeare’s pen,
And his Ladies Faire.

Oh, Olivia, Olivia,
Have you met Olivia?
Olivia, she who is so full of grace?!
So subtle in her nature, (snicker)
The men all adore her,
For her gentle and winsome ways.
(Yeah, right!)

And on her opposite,
Not so nice or so pretty;
Maria, the Mistress of Misrule;
Scheming and devious,
She’ll confound and deceive us,
And even ensnare Feste, the Fool!

But lest we forget,
There’s still one maid left,
On the cold and dark Twelfth Night;
The dear Viola, but underneath,
Swainish & handsome Cesario, we see,
A true angel which wings give flight.

And so, moving right along,
We come to the spirited and strong,
The ladies of King Lear’s dark court;
Against time and the seasons,
Plotting revenge and treasons,
Goneril and Regan make of them sport.

But what of young Cordelia,
So wise and yet so foolish,
Who denies her father, a love so true?
Of her prideful words,
And a cold, unfeeling speech,
Upon her eminent death she comes to rue.

So, there i’tis, my friends,
We’ve come at an end,
And so, and so, adieu;
The Ladies Faire, it seems,
Made from parchment and dreams,
That Shakespeare wrote, and so,
Exeunt.