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Shakespeare in Crescent
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Places are those found in Shakespeare's plays and the people that may be hanging around.
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The Blasted Heath, home at Bottom
Aleppo mastering a tiger
Capulet's orchard, quietly.
In prison and also keeping quiet, should the gaoler hear me.
In a cowslip's bell
(Actually I was lying).
Antigonus, hazard of pursuing bears.
Prison, shunting Inkspot to a nunnery.
a nutshell, counting myself King of Infinite Space
A sea of troubles, shunting the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune to Raak.
Black and white is just not me, but Ephesus shoud wreck Néa's chances of recovery for a couple of moves.
Popping back in, peering through the chink in the wall.
The battlements of Elsinore Castle, putting in a hasty call to Ghostbusters.
[Inkspot]
I shunted thee to a most pleasant place
where maidens fair would surely round thee flock
Thy turn would there have seem'd to pass apace
and yet thou placed'st versus me a block!
But I will blight thee, and with thee thy house
And every body who against me jeered
A pox upon thy oxen and thy cows
And may thy cousin's mother grow a beard!
Thy tokens' colours all will change to pink
Thy summers will be frozen, winters mild
Thy quadrants shall be wobbly, and I think
That all thy river-crossings will go wild.
Old Ruttsborough could ne'er so vengeful be
So as to wreak what I have wrought on thee.
[Tuj] I oppose your sea of troubles, thus ending them. This means I can open at Bosworth Field home at London, The Tower.

Poor Inkspot hath young Néa's hackles raised
And vitriol doth spurt from ev'ry pore
'Twould be a miracle if he unscathed
Return'd with visage fair as 'twas before !
Me fears he'll gaze in woe upon his flank
And see his podumes stricken with the pox
Diagonally blocked and placed in frank
His striles averted; straddles placed in locks
His chances now of winning ? Not a prayer
'Tis never counsel wise to cross young Néa !

A Street, with torches.
Summer's Day, comparisons denied.
A churchyard with aright pair of clowns playing Mornington Crescent.
*shouts, screams generally goes wild for Inkspot*

Well strike me dumb ! Despite my warnings dire
And Néa's verbal lamming of the chap
Young Inkspot hath cross'd first the blessèd wire
And wrought himself a vict'ry free from hap.
Pure skilful play; A coup de grâce serene
Hath brought him to this situation pleasant
Such moves delight the audience unseen
Who echo, scream and shout "Mornington Crescent" !
And so the game is done; And though 'tis hard
We must bid fond adieu unto the Bard

Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord