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
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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