Macbeth, Act I, Sc 1 (the lockdown version):
When shall we three meet again?
(Three of us? Or just the twain?)
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
In those pastures blessed by sun,
The other side of alpine tun-
That will be ere the end of Mon-
day? Wednesday? Please: just pick a one!
Where the place?
Upon the heath.
Or in a park.
(But not when dark).
There to meet with Macbeth.
Though since he’s Scot, an frit of death.
Better, p’raps, not hold your breath
I come, Grayling!
Anon. (from Twitter)
Says anyway: it’s all just balls.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
Unless you nurse or give us care:
Without a mask, you’ve not a prayer.