Friday, 13 July 2012

Of falcons and tiercels

These two nights past, Rebecca and I have seen two plays enacted in our cathedral's cloister: The Tempest and The Taming of the Shrew. In the sky above these dramas another drama: the shrieking, hurling, shouting, sky-rending of our welcome peregrines. The male, the female, their daughter and their son.

Petruchio (Act IV scene i):
My falcon now is sharp and passing empty.
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg’d,
For then she never looks upon her lure.

William Shakespeare
The Taming of the Shrew

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