𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱; 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘺𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘐, 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘐𝘝; 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸.

Corbyn, Jack and Zach edged closer to the Capulet house wearing masks like the other maskers they were among. 

"What will we say is our excuse for being here? Or should we enter without apologizing?" Corbyn asked.

"It's out of fashion to give lengthy explanations like that. We're not going to introduce our dance by having someone dress up as Cupid, blindfolded and carrying a toy bow to frighten the ladies like a scarecrow." Jack said, "Nor are we going to recite a memorized speech to introduce ourselves. Let them judge us however they please. We'll give them a dance and then hit the road."

"Give me a torch. I don't want to dance. I feel sad, so let me be the one who carries the light." Corbyn frowned.

"No, noble Corbyn, you've got to dance." Zach grinned.

"Not me, believe me. You're wearing dancing shoes with nimble soles. My soul is made out of lead, and it's so heavy it keeps me stuck on the ground so I can't move." Corbyn sighed.

"You're a lover. Take Cupid's wings and fly higher than the average man." Zach shrugged.

"His arrow has pierced me too deeply, so I can't fly high with his cheerful feathers." Corbyn kicked the ground, "Because this wound keeps me down, I can't leap any higher than my dull sadness. I sink under the heavy weight of love." 

"If you sink, you're dragging love down. It's not right to drag down something as tender as love." Zach shook his head.

"Is love really tender? I think it's too rough, too rude, too rowdy, and it pricks like a thorn." Corbyn said, matter-of-factly. 

"If love plays rough with you, play rough with love. If you prick love when it pricks you, you'll beat love down." Zach smirked and Corbyn looked at him blankly, "Sex, Corbyn. Have some fun and have sex."

"Come on, let's knock and go in. The minute we get in let's all start dancing." Jack changed the subject. 

"I'll take a torch. Let playful people with light hearts dance. There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose if you don't play the game." Corbyn said, "I'll just hold a torch and watch you guys. It looks like a lot of fun, but I'll sit this one out."

"Hey, you're being a stick in the mud, as cautious as a policemen on night patrol. If you're a stick in the mud, we'll pull you out of the mud- I mean out of love, if you'll excuse me for being so rude- where you're stuck up to your ears." Zach exclaimed, "Come on, we're wasting precious daylight. Let's go!"

"No we're not- it's night." Corbyn raised an eyebrow. 

"I mean, we're wasting the light of our torches by delaying, which is like wasting the sunshine during the day." Zach explained, "Use your common sense to figure out what I mean, instead of trying to be clever or trusting your five senses."

"We mean well by going to this masquerade ball, but it's not smart of us to go." Corbyn bit his lip, looking at the house. 

"Why, may I ask?" Zach asked.

"I had a dream last night," Corbyn told him.

"So did I." Zach smiled. 

"Well, what was your dream?" He asked.

"My dream told me that dreamers often lie," Zach smirked. 

"They lie in bed while they dream about the truth." Corbyn corrected.

"Oh, then I see you've been with Mab." Zach nodded.

"Who's Queen Mab?" Jack asked.

"She's the fairies' midwife. She's no bigger than the stone on a city councilman's ring. She rides around in a wagon drawn by tiny little atoms, and she rides over men's noses as they lie sleeping." Zach said, "She rides every night through the brains of lovers and makes them dream about love. Mab is the old hag who gives false sex dreams to virgins and teaches them how to hold a lover and bear a child. She's the one-"

"Enough, enough! Zach, be quiet. You're talking nonsense." Corbyn said.

"True. I'm talking about dreams, which are the products of a brain that's doing nothing. Dreams are nothing but silly imagination, as thin as air, and less predictable than the wind, which sometimes blows on the frozen north and then gets angry and blows south." Zach rambled on.

"The wind you're talking about is blowing us off our course. Dinner is over, and we're going to get there too late." Jack said, impatiently. 

"I'm worried we'll get there too early. I have a feeling this party tonight will be the start of something bad, something that will end with my own death." Corbyn frowned, "But whoever's in charge of where my life's going can steer me wherever they want. Onward, lover boys!"

"Beat the drum." Jack smiled, and then, with masks covering their faces, they entered. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦.
𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.